


Because I Knew That You Would Be Alright

by elfriniol



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Ben is infatuated, Biting, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Cannoli Kylux, Combat Sports, Come Eating, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Hux is a Tease, Hux is in denial, Hux may have a bit of a fear kink, M/M, Manhandling, Mental Health Issues, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Multi, Past Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Recovery, Rimming, Rough Sex, Self-Harm, Self-Loathing, Somnophilia, Under-negotiated Kink, anger issues, but it will get better, mentioned attempted suicide, mentions of abuse, neither of them is nice, off screen and mostly canonical, suicide ideation, unhealthy relationship, vore (fantasy scenario)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 18:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10196084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfriniol/pseuds/elfriniol
Summary: Hux smiles at his reflection, hands running over his neck. The flurry of emotion and action and violence that was Ben Solo intrigued him to no end, and not only as the fuel for sexual escapades. Ben was everything Hux in his prudence was not. And Hux has always been a curious creature.AKA Hux gets more than he bargained for with his newest fuckbuddy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Though it may not look like that, this is a story about mental illness and recovery, so expect things that go with it - medication, seemingly irrational thinking, depression episodes, etc. I wanted to try writing a not entirely healthy relationship but with the possibility of change, and overall this story rides on a sort of optimism.
> 
> Huge thanks to [frapandfurious](http://archiveofourown.org/users/frapandfurious/pseuds/frapandfurious) for beta-reading and overall listening to my rants about this monstrosity and being so supportive, you rock <3
> 
> Title from the song ["Be Alright"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mBBy50GwGNw) by Lucy Rose. I listened to her music a lot while writing this fic and this song is like... really relevant to the storyline. 
> 
> If you read, please please comment - it makes a whole world of difference.
> 
> Chapter-specific warnings in the end notes!

"I wonder what you taste like."

Hux registers the words as a noise in the background, too fixated on three fingers up his ass, on the slow drag against his tight muscles, in and out. His sigh transforms into a soft moan as Ben brushes against his prostate, just a light touch of his fingerpads. The AC is off and he's _warm_ , spread out and perfectly relaxed on the sheets, sheen of sweat slicking his skin, lube tickling his buttcheeks. Hux cracks his eyes open, revels in how Ben's chest and abs glisten in the harsh sunlight streaming through the windows; then something clicks in his brain and he recalls Ben saying something. Something stupid and painfully obvious.

"Don't you know that already," Hux says, stretching his arms behind his head, arching his back to Ben's probing. He loves how it makes him feel exposed, helpless even, nothing of his body left to imagination in the broad daylight. Ben's other hand grips his hip, and Hux knows from experience he could thrash as much as he'd like and his lower half wouldn't budge, not when Ben has a hold on him like this. Heat rushes to his cheeks.

Ben is looking at him through heavy eyelids, mouth open enough to show the row of crooked white teeth, hair wild. Hungry. Wolf-like. "Not like that," he draws out, eyes locked on Hux, not even blinking once, "as much as I like to eat you out. Nope." He digs his thumb into the dip next to Hux's hipbone, kneads the soft and pliant flesh. It borders on painful. Hux purrs. "I mean it in a more-" twist of fingers, knuckles stretching Hux wide "-visceral sense."

Hux moans, unsure whether it's the stimulation or Ben flicking his tongue over his fat lower lip. His body reacts on its own, cock leaking and a familiar tug inside his belly, just below his navel, when Hux's mind replays the word – _visceral_ – and connects the dots in one startling picture. He laughs, because of course he does. It's absurd. "Right."

"You think it impossible."

"I think you're a freak." With skilled hands, handsome face, and a thick wallet. Still a freak.

Ben's fingers pull out and, if past experience is anything to go by, Hux expects the thick head of Ben's dick at his entrance and a rough pounding, because that's what Ben does when he's cross with him, which is most of the time, because Ben takes everything so fucking personally.

Not that Hux is doing it on purpose. Well, maybe on special occasions.

Instead, Ben lunges forward and pins him down, one hand holding his wrists where Hux so conveniently put them a minute ago, face inches from Hux's own, and a snapping sound next to Hux's ear which he recognizes – too late – as a switchblade snapping open. Ben is that kind of person who needs a weapon on him at all times to feel safe, as if anyone was dumb enough to pick a fight with a 6-foot-odd however-many-pounds sasquatch. Except Hux. His father always told him he needs to learn which battles to pick. Unfortunately, little Armitage took after his mother in too many a thing, getting involved with psychotic men included.

"Look at you, pretty little thing." It reverberates with reverence, fondness even, in stark contrast to the predatory glint in Ben's eyes. Hux watches the blade, reflection of his wide-eyed stare on the polished surface, how it descends to rest against his lips and he goes cross-eyed before it's just a chrome blur at the edge of his vision. "Unsuspecting, you crawled into my arms, offered yourself to me without knowing what you were really doing," Ben half growls, half whispers, and the frequency sends twitches to Hux's cock. "And here you are." He lifts the knife to brush a sweaty ginger lock away from Hux's brow, slow and too close. "At my mercy."

For the first time with Ben – for the first time _in his life_ – Hux can't tell if he's squirming in Ben's grip for show or if he's genuinely afraid. Either way it makes him incredibly horny, then ashamed this garbage of a guy has this effect on him, which sparks resentment in him, but whatever temporary disgust he may be feeling towards Ben gets pushed aside by whatever Ben does next. Today he presses the cold, flat side of the blade to Hux's throat, right over the pulsing artery; light pressure not enough to nick the skin but enough to let Hux know who runs the show, and he swallows a whimper.

"First I would relax you, like you are now." Kiss. "Then hit your pretty head hard enough to ensure I wouldn't have to do it again, cause no matter the circumstances it hurts me to see you in pain." Kiss. Hardness poking at Hux's thigh. "Then I would," Ben continues, unfazed, rising from Hux's torso enough to fit his knife-wielding arm between them, "disembowel you." He says it like a gossip over afternoon tea, in a "hey have you heard Becca ditched Sam" kind of way while sliding the tip of the knife from the bottom end of Hux's sternum, over his taut abdomen, dips the tip to Hux's bellybutton like the tease Ben is and stops just shy of the trimmed red hairs in Hux's loins. Hux doesn't even dare to breathe, just follows Ben's movements with his gaze, stunned and sweaty and hot all over. "And after I'd hollow you out, I'd eat you."

Hux is too baffled to question any of it. "Raw?"

"For starter, yeah. Like tartare."

"You'd have to grind me for that."

"I'd chew very hard."

"You'd get sick."

"Of you? Never," Ben breathes against Hux's tender nape, then opens his mouth and as his teeth meet skin, Hux swears he can see stars. He makes a sound – too loud to his liking – and Ben bites _harder._ Hux's hips buck and the sharp jab in his abdomen reminds him of that accursed knife still in place, dangerously close to his reddened, weeping cock; he tries to articulate a plea for Ben to put that thing away but the remaining bits of coherence are blown from him as Ben trails his wet, gaping mouth lower, sucking and biting and nipping at every patch of skin he can reach. By the time he pinches Hux's nipple in his jaws, Hux honest-to-god screams.

"Shhh, we don't want your neighbors call 911," Ben drawls and moves his hand that had been holding Hux's wrists down to cover Hux's mouth. "I don't like being interrupted during a meal," and he finally tosses the flick knife away in favor of gripping Hux's left hip, forcing him to stillness, all the while bruising him in the imitation of consumption.

It's painful. It's degrading, objectifying. Hux loves it – how Ben's sweaty palm reduces him into throaty whines and whimpers, how scarlet roses bloom all over his torso as if his body was a fertile soil to give birth to such beauty, how that bite in the undeveloped muscles on his ribcage borders on the edge of breaking skin and opening the dam. His skin shines with sweat and Ben's spit, the oxygen he can take in through only his nostrils isn't enough and his eyes burn with tears. Clawing at the bedsheets doesn't help him to ground himself – he's afloat with pleasure-pain.

After what seems like forever, Ben releases the suffocating grip on Hux's mouth, scoots lower so Hux is almost, _almost_ able to move, and sinks his teeth into the plush inner thigh; he watches from under his lashes as Hux reaches his high – spasms and shakes – pumps his cock twice upon hearing Hux's breathless moans, voice raw and abused, and he's there too. He kisses the new bruise and thinks Hux is the most beautiful creature in the universe – when he isn't condescending, when he doesn't play hard to get, when all that matters to him is held within Ben's palm and Hux opens himself enough to have it. It should be so easy – why is it so hard with Hux?

"Ben." It's almost inaudible, soft as a cat's purr, and Ben ascribes it to Hux still not being quite himself; he takes advantage of it, while he can, and licks Hux's belly clean of come, swipes his tongue across every mark he left there, until he's licking at Hux's face like an overgrown puppy, sweat and tears and snot, he doesn't care. For the first time after getting his mouth 'unnecessarily dirty' (in Hux's opinion), Hux doesn't shy away from the kiss he presses to his lips a moment later.

They lie there like that for an indeterminate amount of time before thirst gets the better of them. Ben takes a shower with Hux, who is slipping into his usual self with every drop of water washing away their intercourse. A cleansing ritual. Ben hates it, but finds solace in the string of bloodflowers on Hux's creamy skin that can't be scrubbed away with any sort of sponge. These things take time to dissolve.

Before Ben leaves, Hux kisses him.

*

"Why didn't you tell me earlier you were a boxer?"

Across him at the circular café table, Ben shrugs. "You never asked." He leans on his elbows, then thinks better of it when the table dangerously creaks.

Heavy-weight, Hux's mind supplies. He spoons out the last strawberry from his almost-finished sundae. "I thought you didn't say anything because you worked some uncool job. Like a dishwasher or something. So I didn't ask, not to possibly embarrass you."

Ben raises his eyebrow – Hux hates that tick, because Ben raises only just one, always the left, and almost all the way up his forehead. This kind of expressiveness should be illegal. "Do I look like a dishwasher to you?"

"Well, no."

Ben chuckles. "See."

"That doesn't mean you can't be one. No matter how underwhelming the scenario is," Hux says around a spoonful of whipped cream. He pretends he doesn't notice how Ben openly stares at his mouth, but congratulates himself on yet another seductive job well-done. Keeping Ben for himself for as long as possible is his number one goal in his free time; it would be a waste to let go of such a capable lover too soon. Hux can't remember when was the last time somebody made him come untouched. Hell, he's not sure there ever was one.

"So, when's your next match? It is, uhm, the season, right?"

"You want to see me?"

"That depends. I'm not very excited by the thought of two sweaty meatsacks beating the shit out of each other in front of an audience, but for you I might make an exception."

Ben is clearly amused. "Here I thought you'd be the type to have a secret stash of niche porn, and you're not even into voyeurism."

"The type, seriously."

"You thought I was a dishwasher."

Hux rolls his eyes, "that was just an example, Ben. Certainly, I don't get turned on by clean tupperware."

"But neither by dirty tupperware."

"Before you derail this conversation any further," said Hux as he scooped out last of the chocolate from his glass, "do you have any fight coming or not? Or is it just a cool thing to say but not really do?"

A shadow crosses Ben's features, only for a millisecond, and Hux is, for a moment, afraid he stepped on a sore spot, but it's gone as fast as it appeared. "I do, yeah. It's all about your manager knowing the right people."

"Isn't there some sort of a regional competition?" Hux flushes with embarrassment – he never really got into any form of organized sports, he just goes for a jog twice every week and that's it.

"That too, but, you know," Ben starts, then fidgets a bit, rubs his thumb over the leg of his sunglasses, "scheduled matches pay better. Though I do take part in the Bespin Cup because otherwise my uncle – who owns the gym I train at – would rip me apart. Says I got to represent if I want to stay there."

In the month of their going out, Hux hasn't heard anything regarding Ben's family, until now. "Was it a family thing then, to start boxing?"

Ben shrugs. "Not really. My folks didn't really care what I was doing, as long as I was out of sight and trouble. I was just lucky I didn't have to pay for sessions. Would you like another one?" He gestures to the empty cup in front of Hux.

"Oh, no no, thanks. I can't have more than one per day." When Ben raised his eyebrow – again! – Hux assumed he had to elaborate. "If I eat too many strawberries I can get a skin rash."

"Why the fuck do you eat strawberries if you're allergic?"

"I'm not allergic, it's just a temporary skin irritation, easily avoidable if I watch myself, which, as a responsible adult, I am fully capable of, thank you very much." He rose from the chair, bag in hand. "Besides, I like the thrill."

"Kinky."

"Will you walk me home?" _Will you fuck me raw today?_

Ben links their arms together.

*

Hux, fresh from shower, standing in front of the mirror with a bottle of body milk in hand, frowns at the yellow-green bitemarks as if to will them to go away. It's been days since Ben put them there, burned them into Hux's skin like a brand. They fall from the gentle slope of his nape as far as his loins; the one on the inside of his thigh, nearly unnoticeable, chafes still. Hux has to be careful with his choice of clothing – nothing too fine and too revealing, unless he wants to attract stares and smirks. To say it was inconvenient for the late June heat would be the understatement of the century.

He squirts some of the cream on his palm and works it in the skin, gently brushing over the bruises. Sighs. Part of him wants to think it's Ben's hands on him, Ben's mouth, admiring a job well done and coaxing more blood forward where the bite has almost faded. Like getting an extension on a book from a library. Ever so slightly, he pinches a patch of skin between thumb and forefinger, hums at the sensation it sends through him, how the sensitive flesh flares anew under the attention. Ben is the first after a very long while to gain such reaction from him – Hux only rarely thought about his conquests outside the bedroom, and never without their presence. Ben is so fresh and new in this regard. Unhinged.

Hux smiles at his reflection, hands running over his neck. The flurry of emotion and action and violence that was Ben Solo intrigued him to no end, and not only as the fuel for sexual escapades. Ben was everything Hux in his prudence was not. And Hux has always been a curious creature.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha, after I posted the first chapter I noticed I forgot to edit one little thing that resulted in a plothole :''D so I corrected it later - for the early readers of chapter 1, after the small correction Hux doesn't know anything about Ben's family. That's what happens when you write one thing over the span of two months lol.
> 
> Chapter specific warnings in the end notes.
> 
> Again, thanks to [frapandfurious](http://archiveofourown.org/users/frapandfurious/pseuds/frapandfurious) for help with editing <3
> 
> Also, this fic has [art](http://mini-mantis.tumblr.com/post/158203816891/hux-from-the-fic-because-i-knew-that-you-would-be).
> 
> If you read, please review - comments make my day and every little kudo counts <3

It was a regular morning run until Ben got to the junction of 47th Street and Acacia Avenue.

Like any other day, he passed the shabby newstand just as they received the morning papers, the bus stop next to his former high school that was blissfully quiet this time of year, the bridge that was nicknamed Rustdrool by the local population, mocking its poor infrastructure. Just your regular five morning miles, breathing even and steps light. Mind clear. Sun a warm touch on his shoulders.

Like any other day, until Ben got to the junction of 47th Street and Acacia Avenue where between the trashcan and obnoxiously pink pastry shop stood Hux and a man that couldn't possibly have been associated with him – grey hair, eyepatch, scowl and authority.

Although Ben was sure Hux could hold his ground in any argument – perhaps he could match the wit of his mother even – this stranger didn't look like the talkative type. When he stepped into Hux's personal space, Ben decided to intervene. "Hey, you got a problem?"

Hux turned and failed to keep the surprise from his face, at least in the first seconds as Ben walked to stand next to him, hand on Hux's lower back.

The stranger took a step back, but nothing pointed to the possibility it was out of fear. More like a tactical retreat. Only rarely Ben encountered someone who wasn't cowed by his appearance or attitude (or both) – he could list only Hux so far.

"So you got yourself an attack dog?" The man sneered. "Well, maybe you should teach him which battles to pick."

"It's alright, Ben," Hux smoothly cut in before Ben could get riled up. "The conversation has ended anyway, since it is clear we wouldn't reach a mutually beneficial agreement." He turned to leave, and Ben did the same, arm slung protectively over Hux's shoulders and glaring at the offender until there was a safe distance between them. The man didn't seem too keen to pursue his agenda – whatever that was – as he marched off in the opposite direction.

"You OK?" Ben asks as the silence grows slowly awkward.

Hux is the same as ever. Chin up, sure stride, that bright spark of alertness and mental clarity in his eyes. "Of course I am. Although I appreciate the noble intent behind your actions."

"You know," Ben says as he lets go of Hux since show of support means nothing to him, "at least once you could put the sarcasm aside."

Hux looks at him, miffed. "I meant it. For once."

Ben snorts. Who the fuck says "noble intent" in a serious sentence.

It's only at the end of Acacia Avenue that Hux speaks, and it's so disconnected that Ben has to take a moment to place the information. "That was my father."

"The _fuck,_ Hux?"

"I told you we don't get along very much. Just," Hux pauses; it's rare he's at a loss for words. Outside of bedroom that is. "It's okay. Don't get too into it, alright?"

"I thought you had a stalker or something."

Hux chuckles. "It's complicated. I can handle him though, don't worry." He reaches out for Ben's forearm, as if to placate him after all the trouble, although Ben knows better than to expect that level of care from Hux. Still, it's nice.

Hux stops at a building two blocks down, calls it his workplace and makes way for the door. "Tonight?" Ben blurts out as Hux pulls at the glass door twice his size.

"Tonight what?"

"You're too smart to convincingly play dumb."

"So I'm smart?" Hux says turned away from the door, small smile playing on his lips.

Ben rolls his eyes. "As if that's news to you."

"Coming from you, yeah."

"So?" Ben presses, crossing his arms – he's aware of the effect of this move, how his muscles flex under the skin. Hux flicks his eyes to them, and Ben grows more certain he's won with every second Hux's stare lingers there.

"5:30. Be on time," says Hux before he slips inside and out of Ben's sight.

*

It's Hux who's late, although it's not his fault. It's because he's surrounded by idiots at First Order Inc. As he approaches his building, Ben is already there, sitting in shade on a bench meant for Hux's geriatric neighbors by day and their wildly experimenting grandchildren by night. He gushes out an apology – _it's alright_ – and quickly lets them inside, away from the stifling heat. His suit feels as if glued to his skin and overall, Hux feels gross.

Ben doesn't mind, judging by the fact he's on Hux as soon as the elevator door closes behind them.

"Can't you wait," Hux forces out through the kisses.

"I waited twenty extra minutes."

_Good point._ "I'd like to clean up first."

Ben gives him The Eyebrow. "Isn't that kinda pointless?"

"I'm sticky," Hux says while tugging at his tie, as if to show Ben just how much.

"But I'll make you even stickier."

Before Hux can tell him he's a pig in human form, the elevator rings and Ben practically drags him into the hallway. Impatient. God knows he's been looking forward to this since morning, the deviant. Despite the irritation settling in him throughout the whole day, Hux can't help but be a little flattered by that; while he knows he isn't unattractive, it's quite easy to feel self-conscious next to Ben. Especially in terms of physique, and Ben is always ready to remind him of that particular difference, like now when he presses against Hux's back as Hux is unlocking the door to his apartment.

"Seriously though," Hux says once inside,lifts his fingers to rest against Ben's lips to stop the kissing onslaught, already half undressed, "I really _really_ would like to shower first."

"Hux, come on," Ben whines, but Hux wiggles free from his embrace and dashes to the bathroom before Ben can stop him, shedding his shirt as he goes.

"You could come with me, you know!" Hux calls back. "It's not like these activities exclude each other."

"There's not enough room for that," Ben argues as he picks up Hux's discarded suit jacket and drapes it over a chair. Habit his mother drilled into him since he was about five years old.

"In the shower?"

"Yeah."

"Then we'll take a bath," comes Hux's inappropriately cheery voice and the unmistakable sound of rushing water.

"Aw, come on, Hux, it's literally the same tub for baths and showers. Hux," Ben sighs, earlier excitement effectively doused. Resigned, he enters the bathroom – already steamy since it's so small and Hux is probably going for the dizzying hot-springs effect in freaking _summer_ – to the view of a naked Hux slightly bent over the tub and mixing some bathing products into the water, and perhaps, Ben thinks, this isn't that bad an idea after all. Since the last time Ben saw him disrobed, Hux got a cute suntan showing where exactly his booty shorts and crop top ended. It draws the eye to his glowing, cream-white asscheeks, toned only by a thin layer of freckles. Ben bites his lip.

"I hope you're not just going to stare," Hux teases him, because that is after all what Hux truly excels at, never taking his eyes off Ben as he steps into the tub and sits at one end, water sloshing around his navel. For how practical and collected Hux presents himself in public he's nothing short of decadent and downright hedonistic when it comes to activities done in private. Ben remembers being surprised, pleasantly. Like now. He's not bothering with subtlety as he stares at Hux's exposed chest, at the twin buds of his nipples (it's still fresh in Ben's memory how much darker they can flush under the pinch of his fingers, the edge of his teeth). Hux looks irresistible, and the asshole knows it.

With one final sigh, Ben starts getting rid of his clothes.

"You won't regret it, Ben. The water's perfect."

"Oh, sure," he mumbles with one foot in, Hux drawing his legs up to make room at the other end. With some difficulty he folds himself in there, though he can't stretch out his legs with Hux in front of him.

"Stop squirming and relax."

"I told you it's too small for the both of us."

"Nonsense," Hux says as he nudges his foot to Ben's chest, "my bathtub is fully capable of cleaning two persons at once." Sinking into the water, he purrs as Ben starts thumbing at his foot. It's been a long day, off to a cranky start with his selfish father confronting him first thing in the morning. All Hux wanted at this moment was right here, in the tub. "See, we're fine."

Grunt.

Sighing, Hux closes his eyes, focuses on Ben's fingers on the sole of his foot, tracing past his ankle, kneading his soft calf. He could get used to this, definitely. After a tiring workday, just chilling in a hot, sweetly-scented bath and being showered with attention.

It's so nice he gets thrown off by the question. "What has your father done to you?"

Cracking one eye open, Hux gives Ben a look he reserves for particularly incompetent colleagues, although Ben seems to be immune to it. "I told you not to snoop."

Ben's thumb presses a particularly sensitive spot on Hux's sole and Hux can't fight the soft hum deep in his throat. "I know, and that's as if you told me to ask."

"Do my other foot and then, perhaps, I'll tell you," Hux says as he switches one long leg for another. At least Ben will see he's a reasonable man, willing to listen to his demands.

Ben bites his big toe but obliges. Retracting one arm from the edge of the bathtub, Hux lazily swirls his fingers on the water surface, looks at the crystal clear droplets fall back down and dissolve into tiny ripples. The drop is Ben, sending ripples through Hux's relatively uneventful days, and Hux wonders when it will smooth over again and the drop becomes just a cold sensation on his fingertips.

"He wanted me to go to a military school."

"So? That's not like enlisting."

"Haha. That's beside the point. The point is, he's a former officer, honourably discharged from service due to losing his left eye, and wanted me to live his dream of becoming a general or whatever. Can you imagine me taking orders? Bending to someone's will?"

"You wouldn't have to bend to anyone's will, just over their desk- ow!"

"As if you felt that-" Hux doesn't finish the sentence because he's suddenly submerged by the harsh tug of Ben's hands hooked under his knees, although just as fast as it happens they are underwater feeling for his waist and pulling him up again.

"Shit, sorry, I thought you wouldn't go that easily," Ben manages to explain between bouts of laughter, apologetically stroking Hux's sides, "it's this tub – it's weirdly slick, I'm not used to it. You OK?"

"Asshole!" Hux spits at him, smoothing his fringe out of his eyes. He's glad he didn't accidentally inhale the water because of all the products he puts in. Then Ben does this very specific and ridiculously endearing pout, and when he leans in to press a kiss to Hux's lips Hux lets him.

"You taste sweet," Ben murmurs, hands on either side of Hux's ribcage; Hux seems so tiny between them, although next to Ben nearly everyone looked small. Only uncle Chewie was taller than him.

The kiss ends with Hux nipping at Ben's lower lip, then he leans over to get a small, oval object and runs it over his wet hair. Ben saw Hux use it once already, but thought better of questioning it, back then. "Isn't that soap?"

"It's a shampoo bar," Hux corrects him. "Why would I rub soap into my hair?"

Ben looks around the bathroom. When he glimpsed the inside of Hux's cosmetics cupboard he got the impression of alchemist's secret stash of obscure potion ingredients. Hell, there was a thing that looked like a unicorn horn. The only utensils Ben recognized in all of Hux's bathroom were the toothbrush and razor, while the rest looked like extraterrestrial candy. "Why indeed."

"It's actually better for your hair than the commercial stuff," Hux chirps, unperturbed by Ben's sarcasm, working the foam into his scalp. He revels in Ben's stare at the subtle shifts of his lean muscles, from upper arms to his chest. "Want to try?"

While the thought of Hux's hands running through his hair was appealing, Ben would like a little different turn of events. "I'll pass, thanks."

Hux shrugs, but lets Ben rinse the foam from his hair. It still comes to him as a surprise that when he wants, Ben has such a gentle touch. With these same hands, Ben pummels a punchbag on daily basis, knocks out people twice Hux's weight, maybe even sent some of them to a hospital. And here, with Hux straddling his lap, the fury and violence is gone, replaced by fingers working tension out of Hux's back muscles, his shoulders, the back of his neck. Hux feels pleasantly drunk on the sense of control.

Falling forward onto Ben's chest, he lets out a little moan – "fuck, Ben, you'd give amazing massages" – whimpers as Ben's fingers knead his stiff nape, all the while whispering sweet nothings to Ben's ear, Ben's hair tickling his face. Between his thighs pulses the unmistakable twitch of Ben's cock and Hux's arousal isn't too far behind either.

"Maybe some other time." Ben's hands smooth over his skin and Hux groans at the loss of that exquisite sensation. "I'd like to do something else tonight."

With drooping eyelids, Hux unsticks from Ben's chest, "no", he says with his lips over Ben's as Ben reaches down between them, "not now, I want you to fuck me over the kitchen counter." Kiss.

"That sounds oddly specific."

"It's just the right height."

"And how do you know that," Ben asks as he squeezes Hux's butt, making him squeal, "you little slut. Letting strangers plow you where you prepare your meals."

"That was one time, and it was with such a horrible man – I don't want to think of him when I have a much better alternative at hand."

Hux's mind is too fuzzy to categorize Ben's expression for what it really is, all he can focus on is the need to finally unwind, to forget about the morning and to fuck out the stress.

"So that's what I am to you, just another fucktoy?"

At least his instinct works, because he does notice a minute change in the mood. "I haven't decided yet. I never took a bath with anyone before."

Ben doesn't say anything and, smelling trouble, Hux latches onto him – caresses everywhere he can reach, plants a trail of open mouthed kisses from Ben's forehead to the hollow of his throat, readjusts himself in Ben's lap, purposefully teasing Ben's half-hard length. He doesn't want Ben to leave. At least not yet.

"Please. I had a bad day. First met my eejit father and then this wicked kelpie tried to drown me."

"What the fuck is a 'kell-pee'."

"In this case, you."

"You're an asshole, Hux."

"'Kelpie' isn't an insult."

"S _till_ an asshole." Ben punctuates this by squeezing Hux's jaw and giving his head a little shake, although the kiss that follows takes some of the harshness away, and at this point, Hux will take anything Ben is willing to give. Especially when Ben grants him his wish of fucking him over the counter after they stumbled out of the bathroom, Hux in a silky-smooth robe and Ben without bothering to dress. Worth the trouble, Hux thought while splayed on the countertop, bathrobe tugged halfway down so the sleeves constricted his arms, knees hooked over Ben's shoulders and ass stretched wide around Ben's cock. Million times worth the trouble, the fabric-burns on his upper arms, even Ben's unusual silence.

"Ow- Ben-!" Hux stammers as Ben leans down so his thighs nearly touch his chest, the stretch uncomfortable despite how relaxed his muscles are after the bath. Ben ignores it – while he doesn't press much further, he doesn't ease the pressure either. By the time he's slamming into Hux with abandon, Hux can just moan and whine and hope Ben doesn't see the single tear racing to hide in his hair.

"Are you going to work tomorrow?"

"Wha- y-yes?"

"You'll wish you wouldn't," and Hux comes with a strangled moan, arching off the counter and sending Ben over the edge with the first clench of his hole.

Still in the haze, Ben helps him down, Hux hating the wobble in his knees as he stands. He makes a move to reach out but ends up disguising it as righting his robe when Ben turns away from him, drinks a cup of water from Hux's favorite mug and makes for the bathroom to get dressed.

A moment later, Hux follows; he watches Ben from the doorway just as he pops something into his mouth, catches a glimpse of a white, cylindrical box disappearing into the pocket of Ben's shorts. Hux frowns. Is Ben ill? Why didn't he mention it? Surely Hux had the right to know about health problems of a person he slept with, for his own sake, but then if it was anything that might affect Hux's own physical condition, Ben wouldn't have risked it.

He _wouldn't._

Still, he _could_ have let him know.

Although, upon reflecting how Hux himself treats Ben, there really was no reason for Ben to tell him; in fact, even now, he doesn't acknowledge Hux's presence until Hux stops him with a hand on his stomach and leans in to kiss him again, and Ben reluctantly gives into the soft nibbles at his lips. He keeps his hands at his sides, even when Hux's own come to rest on his flanks, just below the last rib.

In one, completely un-Hux-like moment, Ben catches a whispered _thank you_ against the corner of his mouth, and it stays at that until the door of Hux's apartment closes behind Ben's back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ben calling Hux a slut; Ben not heeding Hux's protests during sex (slight dub-con)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always thanks to [frapandfurious](http://archiveofourown.org/users/frapandfurious/pseuds/frapandfurious) for beta reading <3
> 
> Content-specific warnings in the end notes!

Every time Hux saw Poe Dameron in person, the encounter wasn't complete without some sort of a drama. It could be anything – a misplaced wallet, rushing to the post office right before closing time, or, as Hux discovered this time, a real emergency. At least it looked like that, judging from the voices and smashes transmitted through Dameron's phone that were loud enough for Hux the bystander to hear.

"OK, calm down, I'm on my way, you hear me? I'll be there in twenty minutes at most. Yeah, I know what they're like, just sit tight and wait for me, OK?"

"Trouble in paradise?" Hux asked with a bit too much enthusiasm than the situation called for.

"Sorry, I gotta go. It was good seeing you, Huxy," Poe said as if Hux said nothing, hurrying to the parking lot. "Family's getting out of hand again."

"I thought you lived with your girlfriend?"

"And boyfriend, but the said boyfriend is out of town and Rey went to visit her aunt, who is a decent person, but sadly her son is... hard to get along with."

Hux trotted along not because he wanted the freshest of gossip (or so he told himself) but because the train station was in the same direction as Dameron's car. It's not like he cared for family drama anyway, but showing interest was kinda expected of friends, wasn't it. "Why visit when her cousin is an ass?"

"It's not like she knows he's going to be there. Mostly he isn't. He doesn't get along with his parents anyway. So I guess he and Leia – Rey's aunt – are having a shouting match to entertain the neighborhood and my girl got caught in the crossfire," Poe says as he unlocks the car. "Anyway I really gotta go, Ben is a time bomb."

_She could just leave_ , Hux wanted to say, but just as he was opening his mouth something clicked. _Ben._ What if it were- nah, probably a coincidence. There were thousands of Bens in this city alone, perhaps this was a different unstable, slightly zealous, a little violent Ben.

Although after Hux summed it up in his head like this, the odds of this cousin being someone else...

And then, as always, curiosity got the better of him. "Is this Ben tall, broad, crass and a boxer."

Poe stopped in an awkward stance with one leg inside the car. "Don't tell me you know him."

Before Hux's eyes flashed every single sexual encounter he had with the man, but decided Poe didn't need to know that. "Sort of." Then came the most recent memory, Ben slipping unknown medication into his mouth. "Isn't he... ill?"

Poe sighed, "OK, come along with me if you want, we can talk about it on the way, but really there's no time."

Hux didn't wait to be told twice; within seconds he was in the passenger seat and Poe was pulling out of the parking lot, heading west, sun glaring at them through the windshield. At least it was already after the rush hour.

"Sorry, gotta ask. How do you even know him?"

"I just do – why is it so unbelievable?"

"Obvious answer: You're miles out of his league, gingerbread."

"As flattering as that is, you're being delusional. And stop with that nickname, it's ridiculous."

"Why? You got a paying job, nice flat, no emotional issues. Just name it. You two have literally nothing in common. However did you two meet is beyond me, and I've seen some crazy shit."

"What do the emotional issues amount to?"

"I thought you knew he was ill."

"I don't, I tried asking you."

"..."

"Out with it."

"Look, I know only what Rey occasionally mentioned, so for medical accuracy you'd have to ask him. She said once he takes antidepressants and maybe something else. Dunno if it's to help with the anger management but given the current situation, I guess not."

"Aren't there therapies for that?"

"Yeah, I can totally imagine him going to one. You don't know him like I do. Once he punched me when I tried comforting him."

"..."

"Hux. You OK there, buddy?"

"Of course I am. It's not like I learned he's dying or whatever."

"Well, it's not exactly a light-hearted matter."

"Mental illness is treatable."

"But only if you desire treatment."

"If he's taking his medication, doesn't it mean he does? He's trying."

"Huxy, I don't know how he deserved you, but trust me, we really _tried_. I tried, got rekked. His folks tried, he ran away. Rey tried, she keeps trying till this day, and what does she get – dismissal. It hurts her so much, they were really close as kids, but now... Then there's his creepy manager – that's a whole new chapter in itself. We can only do so much. Even with all that, I keep seeing him, as a friend, and I'm on amicable terms with him, but I won't pick the same fight I already lost once."

"..."

"Armitage."

" _What._ "

"The only possible conclusion to you knowing Ben Solo is that you're banging."

"..."

" _Oh my God, you really are-!!"_

"Would you look at the fucking road, please!"

" _You'll kill each other._ "

" _Dameron_. I grew up with a self-centered, disinterested, occasionally abusive father. I can take care of myself."

"You're literally _nothing_ alike."

"I _know_ that, but that's exactly it. He's nothing like me. And yes, he's rough, and foul-tempered, sometimes on the verge of violent, but I" – _like it, love it, crave it_ – "I guess it just all makes sense with what you've told me."

"..."

"He hasn't hurt me, in case you're wondering."

"I'm glad. He packs a punch."

"I can imagine."

"We're almost there. You can, like, wait outside or in the car or leave as fast as I turn the engine off-"

"I'll go with you."

"You don't have to. It won't be nice."

"I think I can handle him better than you."

"While I admire your confidence, Ben is off-charts in many ways."

"I noticed."

"... Suit yourself. But I warned you."

"Noted. Just don't tell anyone about the- nature of my relationship with Ben."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Poe stopped next to the sidewalk in one smooth motion, in front of an expensive looking apartment building; whoever this aunt was, she certainly was well off if she could afford this sort of house in the D'Qar district. It overlooked the river and the lower city, a sight to behold if only it weren't for the pollution. It was true one couldn't have everything.

As soon as they stepped out of the car a window shattered above their heads.

"Shit's getting real," Poe said as he ran up to the front door, phone in hand to let Rey know they arrived without the provocation of the doorbell. Soon the buzzer rang and both of them started climbing the stairs. Hux wanted to ask which floor was their destination but the commotion proved to be enough of a guide; practically with every step they took the volume increased.

Between the 4th and the 5th floor a girl appeared on the staircase bouncing down the steps and if Hux hadn't figured out already that it was Rey the fact she went straight to Poe left no room for doubts. He stayed a little behind, as if to offer some space, pointedly looking away as she pressed a quick kiss to Poe's lips.

"Thankgod you're here, they've been at it for near an hour now," she said when pulled away. As Poe was asking whether she was alright she noticed Hux, furrowed her brows in confusion. "I am but the apartment isn't. You brought someone along?"

Poe nudged her to continue their way. "It's alright, he's Ben's boyfriend."

"Hey!"

Rey turned to get a better look at Hux, and Hux hated the shock in her eyes. "Ben has a _boyfriend?_ "

_He doesn't_. Hux's tongue itched to exclaim a very dramatic "that's ridiculous!" They just fucked. Every time he and Ben met, they fucked, if they were in the mood they fucked multiple times. That was it, the core of their relationship. The occasional gentleness was a not entirely unpleasant side-effect.

"I'm so glad for him," Rey said, and for once Hux was thankful for his strict upbringing because all those years of practice in hiding his emotions built up into this moment on a staircase with a person he barely knew commenting on his affairs, preventing him from sneering or denying or lashing out. "I guess it's good you came along, then. Ben might listen to you."

"We'll see," said Poe, still keeping his reservations. "How bad is it?"

Ascending, Hux learned that both Ben and his mother were hot-headed, sharp-tongued, and painfully stubborn. Probably in the genes. For a brief moment he started reconsidering if it really was worth to get into this mess and step into a family fight as a stranger to everyone but Ben (though come to think of it, the things he knew about Ben had little to do with his life and work and hobbies and everything to do with the erogenous zones of Ben's body, so he might as well be a stranger to him too). Although if Dameron didn't withhold any information from him and Ben was as alone as he described him, then Hux could do something, anything, even if just try. He knew too much about being lonely in a family home.

However, none of what he learned in the past twenty minutes could prepare him for the scene in the apartment. They entered just as Ben drove his fist into a wall – luckily drywall – probably for the second time based on the other gaping hole, shouting something about someone not being some place that Hux felt was ominously important when said in that raw and accusing tone. Across the room, seated at an antiquated table was an older woman, sitting ramrod straight and watching her son with the scorching intensity only a mother could when disapproving of her child's behavior. She'd look out of place, weren't for that air of authority, her hard stare, the barely suppressed cold fury that stung most in its depersonalized, calculated use which Hux so often received from his father. She opened her mouth to deliver the next jab and halfway through her sentence Hux realized he may have made a massive error of judgement and that Poe Dameron was a jackass and a liar (even if by omission).

Ben's mother was a bloody _politician._ Worse, _that_ politician.

What was that what his father had said the other day. Pick your battles? This resembled the clash of the titans.

Hux was probably royally fucked.

And even if Organa weren't there, Ben was truly out of his mind. Crystallized essence of pent-up rage – the couple blood-smears on his forehead and palms didn't exactly boost Hux's courage. To this day, Hux glimpsed pieces, shards, scattered throughout Ben's actions, poking out here and there. Now he stared into the kaleidoscope.

For the first time in years, Hux felt embarrassed. Foolish. He miscalculated.

Rey and Poe got Ben's attention as they stepped in to intervene, standing in the line of sight as if to break the eye contact between him and Organa. Perhaps Hux didn't give Poe enough credit, for his courage to step into a conflict this magnitude.

"This is none of your business," Ben spat at Poe.

"Ben, what's Rey's business is my business-"

"Don't give me this moral high ground bullshit! Don't fucking bother – you all have been full of it since I can _remember._ " Ben turned around – there was a flower vase, perched on the top of an ornate cabinet, a simple bouquet sprouting from its narrow neck, and Ben reached for it.

If Hux was waiting for a cue, this might as well as have been one.

"Ben!"

It worked, kind of. Shocked, Ben paused in his rage, strong fingers wrapped around the slim porcelain, and Hux dashed to him before he could swing it against the wall or worse. "Ben, that's enough," he said, nearly jumbling the words in his rush. His hands found their way to Ben's shoulders and squeezed, as if they suddenly became sentient. "Please. Come home with me."

_"What are you doing here?"_

"Poe told me." Hux hoped the explanation wouldn't backfire. Reaching out to caress Ben's cheek, he quickly gathered his wits to continue. "I was concerned – you've never said anything, but I figured I could try-," other voices; _God, don't get distracted_ , "-to help you. Please, let me get you out of here. It's okay."

Slowly, Ben's grip on the vase faltered and his hand returned to his side – his shoulders hunched forward with a sigh and Hux carefully let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding when Ben practically deflated right in front of his eyes. He took the chance to reassuringly squeeze Ben's forearm, never looking away from Ben's eyes – they were so dark, the same hue like at night, in Hux's bed, and Hux drew comfort from it. Finally seeing something in this desolate living room he was no stranger to.

Organa disagreed. "Who do you even think you _are_!"

"I'm his boyfriend," Hux said shooting daggers and hell, so what if he suddenly was. If nothing else, Hux knew how to prioritize in the spur of the moment. Everyone missed the millisecond when Ben's face lit up with a painfully visible surprise.

Whatever Organa might have said to that got drowned in Rey's and Poe's voices trying to sooth her. Good thing they were here – Hux wasn't sure he'd win an argument with her. In a way, he respected her – how she always knew what to say and being able to stand her ground against impossible odds.

But this...

One disconnected sentence made its way to them – "I can't just let him walk away!" – and Hux only barely caught Ben's movement to turn to face her again, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look at him again.

"Let it go," he whispered. Somewhere he dug up the strength to smile.

It seemed like an eternity when Ben hung his head low, eyes downcast. Now that everything settled, Hux could feel him shaking.

"I'll take you home with me. Are you fine with that?"

Nod.

"Good," and before anyone could shift their attention to them again, Hux ushered Ben out.

*

The ride to Hux's apartment was, thankfuck, uneventful. They got on the train, some passengers chanced a glance at Ben's bloody knuckles and face, reasoned that they're better off if they mind their own business, and returned to stare blankly at the dark windows until their stop came. Hux was glad there wasn't any ticket control either – of course his fare was paid for for five more months, but Ben didn't seem like the type to care if he used the public transport legally or not.

Honestly, Ben didn't seem like the type to _care._

"This is us," Hux said as the train pulled screeching into the station, taking Ben's hand as gently as he could afford. He tugged and Ben went. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Hux remembered a story about a princess befriending a dragon and walking with the beast in the gardens by having her silk scarf tied around the dragon's neck, like a symbolic leash that they both knew the dragon could tear apart in a second should he choose so.

But he didn't.

Hux rolled his eyes at identifying himself as a princess.

Hot sidewalks and buzzing cicadas greeted them as they exited the station. Finest summer night. Hux loved this time of year, if hiscrop top collection was anything to go by. He loved the calm, residential city areas when dusk fell and people went to sleep, when the local cat population would climb down from the burning rooftops to explore the suddenly human-free streets. If he looked hard enough, he could spot a wagging tail disappearing over a fence or a little four-legged shadow scooting across the empty road. Hux sometimes went out at night, "to feed the tigers".

Digging keys from his pocket, Hux opened the door to his apartment building and ushered Ben inside. He called the elevator when Ben tried to pull his hand away.

"What is it," Hux asked, trying his hardest to not make it sound like a demand.

"Should take the stairs."

Top floor. Hux refused to climb to the top floor without a damn good reason. He stepped closer to Ben, petted his forearm with his free hand. "I'd be calmer if we took the lift, given the state you are in." He caressed Ben's cheek, careful not to smear the blood. "Are you afraid of them? You're not claustrophobic, as far as I can tell."

"Don't ride elevators, climb the stairs; train whenever you can."

Athletes can be so ridiculous, Hux thought. "Well, if it's that, I'm sure one lapse in the training routine won't do any harm," he said as he walked backwards to the cabin and pulled Ben with him who, to Hux's mild surprise, went quite willingly, and if the earlier incident hasn't proved that already, Hux now knew for sure Ben must be out of his mind with – something, when a rule drilled into him from childhood went ignored without any fuss. He punched the 10 and the "close the door right the fuck now" and stepped into Ben's space as a support, just in case. "Who told you to never take the elevator, your uncle?"

"Bruce Lee."

Hux wanted to laugh but then it occurred to him that perhaps Bruce Lee wrote a book and that Ben is in no state to be teased. "Well, it certainly paid off. The extra training, I mean." He squeezed Ben's hand again – brushing against the scrapes and cuts and torn skin. It made his brows crease, Ben to harm himself in such way; but in a matter of minutes it would be okay, they would open the door to Hux's apartment and Hux would patch Ben up as best as he could.

"Arms up," Hux commanded once in the bathroom, pulling Ben's tank top over his head. Then he washed the dirt and gore from Ben's torn palms, spent almost half hour picking out splinters, careful not to miss any to rot away in the flesh. The cuts weren't that bad – most of them didn't need dressing or anything. Hux cut up two pieces of bandaid for two of the most raw knuckles and left it like that; he did pretty much the same for the scrape on Ben's forehead which, too, looked uglier than it really was. He kissed Ben's nose after he washed his face clean.

Then came the less pleasant part, but Hux had to get it over with too. "Do you have your meds with you?"

Grunt.

"Come on, Ben, don't make this a big deal." He palmed at Ben's pockets until he found the unmistakable shape of a box, took it out. "This all?"

Sighing, Ben reached out to his other pocket, pulling out a blister pack.

"Good. One of each kind?"

"Hux, one lapse in the routine-"

"Baby, this isn't the same and we both know it," said Hux as he popped out the second pill from its case. "Open up."

Ben didn't, and as far as Hux knew, Ben _wouldn't,_ not in the current situation. Always so stubborn – no surprise he got into boxing when his skull was so thick. So Hux did the only thing he could – not letting his eyes off Ben, he slipped the medication into his mouth, on his tongue.

Ben stared at him, shocked. Then started to talk – that Hux can't be serious, that it can harm him, that it's prescribed and what is he supposed to do with him if he gets sick, and before he could say anything more Hux pressed forward and kissed him. With tongue.

It worked like a charm.

"That was dirty." Ben glared as soon as they came apart.

"Benny, you had your tongue up my ass-"

"Unfair! Fuck, you have to twist everything I say."

Apologetically, Hux kissed the perfect curve of Ben's collarbone. _I had to_ , he thought, _you already made me do things I have never dreamed of before I met you. But I don't regret them._ "Are you hungry?" He asked as he walked Ben to the kitchen.

Predictably, Ben shook his head, so Hux settled on pouring him a glass of water and ensured he drank all of it before leading him to bed.

Later, as Hux finished catching up on his emails and slipped under the covers, he watched Ben's sleeping face in the blue light, how his ribcage expanded with every breath, how he clutched Hux's pillow in his arms, the bandaids visible as rectangles a shade darker than the rest of Ben's skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux (force) feeding Ben his medication


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to [frapandfurious](http://archiveofourown.org/users/frapandfurious/works) for beta <3
> 
> Can't think of any additional warnings here, wow.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](http://mini-mantis.tumblr.com/) \- feel free to drop by!

Week after the incident, Hux still can't get in touch with Ben. He doesn't answer his phone, nor replies to texts, doesn't even lurk around Hux's building in the evenings as he would do, on occasion. Hux didn't have a chance to talk to him even on the morning after he took Ben in because, not entirely unexpectedly, Ben left before Hux stirred awake.

He won't admit it to himself, but with the growing silence, Hux is growing equally worried. Also, he realizes he doesn't really know Ben on the practical side of things – Hux has no idea what's his address or the gym he trains at. Not that he would go there in person to ask after him.

He'd miss the sex. Yes, that's definitely got to be it.

On day eight, Hux chickens out and rings Poe, because if there is someone who knows anything about Ben, it's gotta be Dameron, who, to be honest, knows about everything going around this entire city; Hux was actually surprised he didn't know about him and Ben before that ride to D'Qar. Usually, this near omniscience drives Hux crazy but today, today he might get something out of it.

He regrets the call as soon as Poe picks up and greets him with overly jovial "Huxy, baby, how are you doing?"

"Dameron. I have a favor to ask of you."

"Always cutting straight to the point. I like that about you, you know." Hux rolls his eyes but endures. It's for Ben. It's for the mindblowing, filthy, hot sex with Ben. "Alright, gingerbread, hit me."

_Love to_ , Hux thinks. "Have you been in contact with Ben since- the incident," Hux says instead.

Poe clicks his tongue – it comes through as static – and Hux can very clearly picture the smug grin behind it. "Miss him, don't you? I know right, he's hot-"

"I don't _miss_ him, I'm _concerned_."

"-a bit of a short fuse but nobody's perfect, right. Thing is, Huxy, he's not the type to talk to anyone when he gets... Well, you saw how he gets."

Hux doesn't immediately respond, so Poe continues: "He'll shut himself off and you won't hear from him for weeks, months even. Full hermit mode. The only thing to drag him outside is a fight, and even in the gym he's a fucking ghost. He's lucky uncle Chews is benevolent enough to give him spare keys so he can go sweat in there at night. Don't bother calling him – it's useless. I guess it's his way of saying sorry and showing remorse. And, for the love of God, by all that is holy, if you value your safety and mental integrity, don't go force him into talking to you. Trust me. I learned the hard way."

"Do I understand right," Hux says, slowly, a bit baffled from what he's just heard, "that every time your friend enters a depression episode, you tactically retreat?"

"Hux, babe, I know it's not perfect, but look, he already broke my nose once. Even his own folks have no idea what to do with him. It's best if you keep out of this, he's no shit to be around at times like these."

"He's _mentally ill._ "

"Look, I don't deny that, but that doesn't mean he gets to hurt people and get away with it."

Hux stares at his knees, how they clasp his unoccupied hand. This might be growing over his head but he's not that cold to just leave it be. And Ben.... While Hux's experience with him was far from healthy, it wasn't out of his comfort zone. He's been in worse relationships. "You're high."

"What's that got to do with anything? Besides, I'm not."

"You get religious only when you're high. I know you, Dameron. _All that is holy_ gives you off every time."

On the other end, Poe laughs. "You're so smart, gingerbread. Wish you weren't head over heels for the Kashyyyk Nightmare."

"What the fuck is Cash-eek?"

"The gym. Hasn't he told you?"

Non-negotiable facts. Finally. "Thank you for your time, Poe."

Poe starts cursing, telling him to forget it, that he's no idea what he's getting into, that he'll regret it. Hux hangs up on him.

*

Truth be told, Hux could have thought about googling Ben earlier. It could have saved him the call to Dameron, although then he wouldn't have the helpful insight to Ben's post-rage fit state of being, so he concludes it wasn't completely meaningless. He finds out the gym is actually spelled "Kashyyyk" – just what kind of a name is that – and that Ben is representing it in the Bespin Cup. Scrolling lower, Hux learns Ben is holding a winning streak for the past four years and that in five days he's got this year's final, and that there's a heated discussion about whether he's going to take it for the fifth time too. What the fuck. On couple occasions, Hux saw Ben beaten up and in sour mood over a fight lost, assumed he wasn't a big name in the sport and didn't think about it in any other way than that it's a shame such a pretty face gets bruised.

And now it seems like he's dating a fucking Rocky.

Hours later, Hux's eyes hurt from devouring every news article, every single information available online on Ben's career. Turns out the combat sports community has a conflicting opinion on him – some love Ben as the wild card he is, others openly loathe him. Everybody agrees on his unstable results; while the Cup is always a clean K.O., Ben's other matches involve heavy losses. To Hux it doesn't make much sense, however, upon further thought, it does seem in accord with Ben being his unpredictable self.

He notes the gym's address – turns out it's not so far away, just two stations by train – and, by the end of the day, he has a plan.

*

Work on Fridays always drags, and this time it drags twice as much. When 5 p. m. finally chimes Hux is ready to roll within seconds; he stops at the grocery store to get ingredients for dinner (if he adds a pack of condoms and lube because they were 15% off, he doesn't know it) and by the time he gets home it's past 6. He contemplates changing, but if he got too cozy now he doubts he'd muster the will to leave later – besides, he's wearing what he calls his casual Friday outfit, just plain pinstripe shirt and slacks, so he rolls up his sleeves and gets to cooking.

Half nine catches him lounging on the sofa, pleasantly full and going through the possible outcomes of what he's planning to do later this day. Perhaps Ben won't be at the gym tonight, or Hux will miss him, either way prolonging the status quo. Then Ben might be there, but in no mood, and Hux can get dismissed either in a civilized manner (unlikely) or through a shouting match (extremely likely). Lastly, Ben might be there, and might be glad to see Hux, and might not lose his temper, and might...

Might what? Carry on as if nothing happened?

Before Hux could elaborate on how to tackle the obvious flaws in his approach, it was time to take the train and ride the two stations to the Kashyyyk, and now he finds himself in a dubious city quarter after nightfall and nothing to do except wait. When he gets there the lights are on, though the odds of it being a janitor are quite high; he walks round the building to check if it has another entrance, but it seems the main door is the only way. And so, picking a spot where a nearby tree blocks the light of streetlamps, Hux sits on the warm concrete steps and waits.

After 40 minutes pass Hux is ready to call it a night and give up, but then the lock rattles and a second later Ben appears at the top of the stairs. In those awkward moments before someone you've been waiting for notices you, Hux forgets most of his rehearsed sentences and then Ben is locking his eyes with his. There's surprise, but also wariness. Hux tries to come up with something to say, settles on a hopefully positive greeting.

Ben is having none of it. "What are you doing here? This isn't a good neighborhood."

Standing up, Hux does his best to leave his confrontational nature out of this. "You never got back to me. I was concerned."

"OK." Ben descends the steps, moves past Hux without really looking at him and gets out on the sidewalk.

The nerve. Hux can't believe he sat on a hard ground for near an hour for this prick.

"I take it you are alive and well then," Hux says as he matches Ben's strides, with a tad more vitriol than necessary. Ben just groans. "You could have written a text with that, you know. It's common decency."

"You don't have to worry about a shortage on fucking if that's what you're worried about."

"No, you idiot," Hux barks out, picking his pace to stand in front of Ben. "I've been worried about you, but I guess you're both deaf and illiterate if you haven't got it by this time." He can hear something along the lines of _told you_ in Poe's voice, but he chooses to ignore it. He's too worked up to care about it, and he's not afraid.

Ben doesn't look angry; he just looks so strangely, unsettlingly _tired._ Detached, even. The salt is the outcome, not the cause, although that does not diminish the sting, not in the slightest. "You don't have to pretend you don't resent me, Hux. Not after that. I know I'm full of shit so please, be honest with me."

They stare each other down before Hux replies: "Yes, you are. And I don't care, not as you'd think I would." He softens his expression a little, though who knows if it's even visible in the dim light. "I'm not afraid of you like the rest of your _friends_."

For a moment nothing happens, and Hux tries to convince himself he hasn't fucked up. Finally, Ben snorts out a laugh and sidesteps him. "Are you," he sneers as he bumps Hux's shoulder and walks on.

Hux so, SO wanted to be nice but this was already treading the fine line between love and hate. "You know what, fine! I resent you – are you happy now? I can't wait for you to singlehandedly fail at absolutely everything you attempt in your life! What the fuck do I know, perhaps you get off on thinking everybody hates you!"

"And perhaps you get off on being a condescending bitch all the time!" Ben retaliates. Somewhere a dog starts barking. "Do you ever hear yourself – you don't give a fuck about what I actually think half the time!"

"I tried calling you a hundred fucking times the past week to _ask you about that-_ "

"No shit! It would be how am I, and what the fuck was that and why did I do that and in the end 'wow sweetie, be strong, it'll pass' kind of bullshit! I've heard enough of that to last a fucking lifetime!" They haven't noticed they're practically headbutting each other while screaming the accusations; a woman's voice yells at them to shut the fuck up or she's calling the police.

"Don't try to assume what I'd do, Ben," Hux growls.

"Make me."

Hux would swear it's Ben who tips his head just a little forward, Ben would swear it's Hux who raises his chin half an inch; however, by whatever pull of gravity, their mouths clash. Hard. There's teeth and tongue and squished noses and the way how Ben breathes into Hux's mouth makes Hux wild. He grabs a fistful of Ben's hair – damp – and yanks him in the general direction of the nearest building wall.

They end up in a spot secluded by the local vegetation that Hux hopes is enough; he prepares for the dull thud of his skull against stone as Ben shoves him into the bricks but Ben's hand snakes behind his head to take the blow. Nice gesture, for Ben. Hux returns the favor by sneaking inside Ben's shorts (perhaps a too generous once he discovers Ben isn't wearing any underwear). Before he can get into it, Ben is pulling down his slacks and briefs and- fuck- the threat of being discovered is enough to make Hux leak the moment Ben takes both their cocks in his palm. He clutches at Ben's tee, at his neck and shoulders, gasps and dives for kisses and bucks his hips and when it becomes too much that he can hardly breathe, Ben flicks his wrist just right and Hux is spilling over Ben's knuckles with a whine.

Ben fucks Hux's thighs to finish. It's not as slick as it should be and Hux's sensitive skin already chafes, but Hux doesn't care; he stands there, hugging Ben close to his chest, watching over Ben's shoulder the distant lights of passing cars, letting Ben use him to chase his own pleasure. When Ben's body shakes with the familiar shudder signalling his release, Hux kisses his temple, tightens his hold.

"I miss you," sounds from somewhere in the crook of Hux's neck.

"I'm right here," Hux replies.

"I'm so sorry I'm like this."

"Shhhh," Hux sooths, stroking Ben's hair. "I'm not easy to be around either. I'm sorry." He asks Ben to come home with him.

Ben agrees.

Dameron was wrong, after all.

*

It's the ease of the morning that gets to him. Ben rubs the sleep out of his eyes and watches Hux's face before he is roused as well. Hux smiles at him, stretches on the mattress. He looks like a cat. Ben doesn't have any real opinion on cats, but suddenly he feels the urge to become a cat person. Reaching out, he trails his fingers down Hux's jaw, his throat, and he swears he can hear Hux purr.

Hux asks him how he feels while checking his hand for scrapes. _I'm fine_. Hux asks him if he's okay with getting breakfast outside. _Yeah._

Two blocks down in the café and halfway through his bagel Ben realizes he's _starved –_ really, what was he thinking not eating for thirty hours straight – then it dawns on him that when his brain decides to do a massive lapse in judgement with tangible consequences, hunger becomes a cryptid he's heard whole stories about but which he had no personal experience with. He's gonna die at the gym this afternoon; for Ben, eat well, train well, sleep well has never been an easy guideline to follow.

Across him, Hux is nursing his double espresso and a caramel macaron – it's like Hux chooses his food to compliment his outfit, what with the baby blue top that ends just above his navel and washed out pale jeans hanging low on his hips. Even his stupid, so-called barefoot sandals match with the beige pastry and black coffee. If it were anyone else, Ben wouldn't stop laughing at them. So trendy that it's pretentious.

Hux, however...

Hux looks so good in it. So natural.

Ben is done with his breakfast before Hux takes a second bite from the macaron, so Hux gets up and buys him some fancy fruit-laden yoghurt – Ben refuses – Hux insists – Ben is in the end glad because he's still so fucking hungry he almost cries at the first spoonful. He doesn't see Hux hiding his smile behind the coffee cup.

They finish their food, step outside. It's raining – sudden summer downpour. Ben starts leaning onto the café wall to do what usually people do in this situation – wait it out – but next to him, Hux runs out to the street, water be damned; he laughs and spins and calls out to him – _come on, Ben! -_ and the sunlight catches in his soaked hair the color of melted copper and it's like he's the rainbow in this rain and God, as he takes the first step forward, Ben swears he's in love.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to frapandfurious for editing help <3 also, the author knows nothing about boxing competitions so please bear with me :'')
> 
> Content warnings in the end notes.
> 
> And, [this chapter has art!](http://mini-mantis.tumblr.com/post/159233539101/ben-is-like-a-summer-night-hot-and-damp-and)

"What do you mean it's _sold out_?"

"That you won't get in, gingerbread." Poe sounds laidback as ever, smug even. It gives off that "I know something you don't" vibe – Hux has never liked being on the receiving end of that one and has reached the stage of his life where it is seldom practiced against him. He's learned to gather intel and use it in his favor fairly young, and old habits die hard.

The more Poe's demonstration of power grated at his nerves. "Unless, of course, you happen to have the right _friend_ and ask nicely."

"Why do I get the feeling that's supposed to be you?"

"Tidge, it's you who wants something from me, you should at least pretend to act like it," Poe jokes, or Hux so believes. Well, he _could_ drop the permanently displeased businessman act once in a while.

"Alright. I don't know how you'd do it, but could you get me a seat for Bespin Cup? Please," he adds.

"Finally. When you ask like this I can't deny you anything, you know that, gingerbread?"

"Duly noted."

"Shit, you really want to get in there – you're not snapping at me for ten seconds straight-"

Hux sighs, curious about just how much exasperation he can fit into one exhale.

"Alright, alright, I'll get you in. Me and Rey will be coming for sure, so we'll take you along. Can't guarantee the front row, though."

"Actually, I'd rather somewhere a little less... Exposed."

"Awww, you want to surprise him – I never took you for a romantic-"

"I'm just _intrigued_ – that's a whole world of difference."

"You can believe that. Yeah. OK, gingerbread, gotta go now – I'll get back to you later. Don't worry about the ticket."

"Thank you."

Hux hangs up, finding himself strangely distracted and brimming with anticipation. At first, this was coming off as a good idea – check up on Ben by attending something that's important to him, learning a couple things in the process; now, Hux can't keep that claim. Not if he's being entirely honest with himself.

_I'm just intrigued,_ he said. Perhaps he meant _I want to see him._

*

If something can be said about Poe Dameron, it's that he always keeps his promises – on Saturday, he and Rey pick Hux up at his apartment and make way to the venue where the "summer's largest boxing event" that is called the Bespin Cup takes place. Hux had no idea the thing was this big – they passed at least two journalist teams on their way to their bench and the sheer amount of people inside watching the lighter category semifinals made Hux a little anxious. The building will be bursting at the seams by the time Ben's match rolls by.

Ben – the same Ben that Hux led away from Organa's wrecked apartment – will be right in the middle of it all, standing his ground like he's done four times before and perhaps today he too will emerge victorious.

After they're seated, Hux receives a crash course on box tournaments from Rey and before he can grasp all of the information that's being hurled at him at the speed of light, the ring closest to them is pronounced to be hosting the heavy-weight quarterfinals.

"How many competitors are there?"

Poe snickers. "Already bored?"

Hux lets himself relax cause hey, even if his image is built on being scornful and critical, it isn't exactly unpleasant to go out with one of the very few people he can call a friend and enjoy one evening with them. "I mean, I have a somewhat singular interest."

"Leave him be, Poe, it's his first time in an event like this. And honestly, I don't really care about the sport either." She pulls up a schedule of the quarterfinals. "Eight. Ben's in the second match."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." She leans into the plastic seat as if it was the most comfortable armchair in a five-star hotel lounge, her hoodie bundling around her shoulders and neck. They watch the preparations in companionable silence until Rey lazily turns her head in Hux's direction. "So, how did you meet my cousin?"

"That's...," Hux clears his throat. His skin feels like it's burning under her and Poe's unwavering stares. "Not really interesting."

They didn't buy it. "Nothing ever about Ben is 'not really interesting' _._ "

"Seriously." Squirming, Hux tries to divert their attention, somewhere, _anywhere_ , why is that ring still so freaking _empty_ , and all he achieves is that Rey's curiosity grows and Poe's amusement skyrockets. "It wasn't very... Eventful."

"You're blushing, gingerbread."

"And you're being nosy."

Finally, the awaited competition begins, and the cheers and the amplified voice introducing the first round of fighters effectively drown out whatever Poe or Rey might've been wanting to say to make Hux spill the beans about his first time with Ben. He doesn't need any judgemental comments (even if delivered as a joke) right now – he's well aware of all his shortcomings regarding his decision-making abilities in Ben's vicinity. At least in the beginning; after some time, Hux actually became a bit proud of himself on how he – _exclusively –_ can exist alongside Ben. Not even Ben's own mother can say that.

Hux shakes his head nearly with the same force as the fighter on the receiving end of a particularly vicious left hook, because where did that thought come from? It's as unexpected as that punch to the face. Next to him are Rey and Poe closing bets on who's gonna make it to the semifinals and Hux can't help the feeling of being alone in a crowded room.

"No fair, how did you know he'd turn that over?"

"He did the same last year, and the other dude didn't guard his right side at all. Thank you for doing the dishes for the next two weeks, darling."

"You're welcome."

"Now it's Ben," Rey almost shouts at Hux over thousands upon thousands of clapping hands. She's excited, perched on the edge of her seat, back straight and craning her head to catch a glimpse of Ben as soon as he sets foot in the venue. It's... oddly nice, to see her looking forward to Ben's performance, as if nothing bad ever went down between them. As if that incident in D'Qar Hux dreamed up.

Soon enough two hooded figures climb into the ring and Hux can feel his nerves roll at the familiarity of the man in the red corner – shoulders slightly slouched, yet imposing, head tilted forward just so that nothing above the tip of the – decidedly Ben's – nose is visible. The robe is black with red-lined hems, exposing a wide stripe of skin from the collarbones all the way down to the waist of the boxing shorts of the same colors. Hux swallows; the image is definitely impressive. Evocative of some long-forgotten cult zealot. Suitable.

_"And in the red corner, the undefeated champion for the last four years – you've heard that right, ladies and gentlemen, four consecutive wins – and a hot candidate for this year's ABF awards. The_ Kashyyyk Nightmare _, KYLO REN!"_

" _Ky-_ what?" It takes Hux a moment to realize he should probably applaud here. Then the hood comes off and yes, it's Ben, the same Ben that treated Hux to ice cream and the same Ben that spreads Hux's legs more often than not, only the air around him is thick with concentrated resolve and the look he gives his opponent as they greet each other is beyond anything Hux would consider appropriate for a sports match. Ben – no, this _Kylo_ – gives off the feeling he'll charge with the force and carelessness of a rhinoceros.

A little like when Hux teases him enough to snap and fuck Hux so hard he is sore the day after.

Hux swears – this isn't the _time_.

"You OK there, Tidge?" Comes Poe's voice over the cheers, because _of course_ Poe is keeping an eye on him. "Not what you expected?"

_More than I ever expected_ , but it stucks in his throat when the phone buzzes in his pocket. Hux ignores it – the match has just begun, the referee bell dissolving into the noise of the audience, both fighters closing in on each other-

When the phone buzzes again. And for the third time.

"Now, really," he mumbles as he pulls it out – turns out Phasma really _needs_ to know whether he'd have time to go drinking tonight, so he types a careless "sorry have plans" and as he hits send the bell rings again and the whole arena starts counting. Hux looks up – Ben is hovering in his corner while the other guy is struggling on the floor.

"It's _over?!_ "

Rey turns to look at him – she bursts out laughing when she notices the stupid phone, and Poe soon follows suit.

"You missed it! Awww, Hux, babe-"

"It may not be over yet, he can still get up!"

The referee reaches ten. The dude doesn't get up.

"Or it may be," Rey says. "But don't worry! There's still two more matches to go!"

"So sure he'll make it to the finals?" Poe asks.

Rey gives him a look, as if Poe was oblivious to common knowledge. "Of course he will. I'm sure he'll win this time, too."

Hux grumbles something as he turns the phone on silent. Damn it, Phasma.

*

Ben's second fight Hux actually sees. In the ring, Ben is like transformed – or let loose, depending what aspect of Ben's nature Hux believes to be the default. Fast on his feet and crushing with his blows. This opponent lasts him longer, well into the fourth bout. Hux doesn't have any idea on how tiring each round must be, but it seems to not affect Ben much – he has seen the other competitors leave the ring in a far worse state, slouched and chest heaving as if they ran a marathon. Not to mention some swollen eyes or bloody noses.

When Ben takes a direct hit to the face Hux winces, even if Ben carries on as if nothing happened. Idly he wonders how many concussions Ben endured. He could ask. He gets so into it that when Ben's rival gets knocked down for the second time, Hux is counting to ten with the whole arena, practically bouncing in his seat; at the end of the chant the referee declares Ben the winner and when Rey pats his shoulder in excitement, he can't find a reason to be offended by the gesture. It's good, in fact. How long has it been since he enjoyed something in a group?

Has he ever enjoyed something for the sake of someone else?

"I told you he's gonna make it to the finals, and I'm telling you, Benny's gonna nail it!" Rey yells at Poe.

"Yeah. You're right. I love you."

Ben's final match is scheduled in twenty minutes, so Hux takes the chance to go to the restroom. He doesn't like how hot his face feels and indeed, the mirror is not too kind to him – his cheeks are flushed and hair mussed from running his hand through it too often. There are two other men in the bathroom, but Hux doesn't pay them any attention – he doesn't care what others think of his, perhaps a little, vain habits.

That is, until one of them opens his mouth.

"I'm telling you, Ren won't win this year – not against Plutt. The fucker's finally gonna get what's been coming for him."

"You just hate him 'cause you lost a bet, mate. Grow up."

"Dude, the asshole's insufferable. Fucking psycho. Have you heard he earned himself a ban at the _Finalizer_? He's nuts. Can't wait to see him go down."

The man turns to the row of sinks and Hux quickly splashes his face with water in an attempt to wash the anger away, because who the _fuck_ does this arsehole think he is; he's lucky Hux is still in a good mood, too preoccupied with Ben on his mind to give a damn about a random eejit in the men's restroom.

"Whatever, you can't deny he's got spirit," says the other guy before he busts through the door and leaves Hux with that hateful prick alone. Who doesn't look like leaving. Who, in fact, is unabashedly checking out Hux's ass while Hux runs a wet hand through his hair to put it in order.

"Hey."

Well, what the _shit_. Hux doesn't deign that with an answer.

"I didn't know hot twinks liked boxing."

_I didn't know fuckwits were allowed in public places,_ Hux thinks, _but alas, here you are._

"What about I treat you to a drink, after this is over? You and I, hitting the dance floor?"

Hux's eyes are still fixed on his unruly hair when he says the politest 'fuck off' he can think of: "I have a boyfriend."

"Offer still stands. I'll make it worth your while, pumpkin."

One last look in the mirror – messy, but stylish – and Hux turns to the idiot. He's about the same height, with some muscle but nowhere near Ben's build, though he made up for everything with arrogance. It rolls off him in waves. While Hux likes people with some backbone, he despises those who act like the world belongs to them. They don't know what it's like to fight for the room to _breathe._

Schooling his face in an expression of utter disinterest, Hux speaks, tone level. "You won't. Now excuse me while I go watch the said boyfriend break his own record."

Dumbfounded, the man just stares, and the door is already swinging shut behind Hux's back when he formulates a lame remark. Out in the hall, as he makes his way back to Poe and Rey, Hux starts laughing.

*

"Ready?"

Rey orders the universe to "bring it". Hux isn't ready at all. He believes Ben can do it, no doubt about that, but he's nervous as if he himself were about to step into the ring. It's a bit stupid, actually.

Unkar Plutt, the second finalist, is nothing like Ben. Shorter, but definitely heavier, of stout build; his fighting style (if it can be even called that) is more on the passive side, tiring his opponents and then scoring points when they let their guard down. Ben might not be patient enough to deal with that sort of tactic, although Rey tells Hux he has faced Plutt before. However, she doesn't mention the outcome.

Hux can soon see why. The first two bouts are even, Ben's attempts at the offensive staunched before he can unfurl any combination, and when he's on the defensive, his fickleness shows – Plutt manages to double-hit Ben's ribs and solar before Ben breaks it off, who looks mightily pissed when he drops into the stool in his corner and scowls when a man who looks eerily close to a sasquatch – Ben's uncle from the gym? - pep talks him. Hux is sure that approach won't work; as far as he can tell, when Ben gets frustrated like this he has to find a way for himself and won't take anything more than a nudge in the right direction. Maybe that will resolve itself as the fight progresses.

If Ben lasts long enough. If Ben doesn't lose focus. If Ben doesn't reach the apathetic stage sooner than the hyperjump to ultraviolence.

Hux pulls at his fringe. He doesn't like the variables much; Rey has probably made the same calculations when she yells at Ben to get a fucking grip although she knows he has no chance of hearing it.

The break comes in the fifth round – Ben throws Plutt off enough to get in with a combo and the jerk backwards Plutt's head does would make Hux sick if it didn't happen to someone he wants to get wrecked so very _much._ He screams "yes!" as the chime signals the end of the bout and the referee has to literally tear Ben away from Plutt and Rey flashes Hux a triumphant grin because they both know this could be the turning point.

And, indeed, it is, only in a way none of them expected, when Plutt sucker punches Ben _after the round has been_ _declared_ _over._

"The fuck?!"

Ben falls down, and Hux feels a stone drop into his stomach in the second before he raises to his knees and then the people from his gym rush to his side and help him to the stool. The referee is in wild debate with Plutt – Hux can't fathom what in the seven hells they are discussing when this was clearly against any rule in boxing since the beginning of time.

"Disqualify!" Rey screams at the top of her lungs and Hux would join if he weren't busy with catching a glimpse of Ben among the bodies blocking his vision. When he finally does, Hux bites his lip: Ben looks furious. If Hux has learned anything in the past month it's that Ben hates when he's caught off guard. Plutt certainly has no idea what he signed up for.

"He's going to kill him," Hux says, concerned less than he probably should be. He might want to research legal matters regarding combat sports once he gets home.

The referee settles on continuing the match with one penalty for Plutt and as soon as the next round is rung, Ben charges – Plutt may have anticipated a fast start, but he hasn't accounted for the raw power Ben would unleash on him. Maybe no-one could have – this is the level of violence Hux has witnessed in Organa's apartment, only instead of riding on every and any impulse it's consciously channeled into a stream of precisely executed strikes. A shiver runs down Hux's spine – he tamed this, in its essence. Not Ben's mother, nor the rest of his family, nor the referee looking increasingly astounded. Only Hux and Hux alone. He sits a little straighter in his seat.

"Sure looks cool when it's not me on the receiving end," Poe says when Ben sends Plutt down with a direct hit to his face that's gotten so mangled that Hux struggles to understand how this is still within the rules. The count to ten is reduced into a formality, and then the audience explodes – next to Hux Rey squeals and he himself makes some indignant sound that he'll be embarrassed about later. _Bloody Ben,_ acting all smug and nonchalant as his victory is officially announced, flashing a grin in the direction of his team. As if Ben hasn't already taken a couple months off of Hux's life.

Rey and Poe get up as soon as Ben makes way for the locker rooms and Rey almost hauls Hux up from his own seat. "Come on, or he slips us by!"

"What?"

"You want to wait for him, come on!" Rey insists with a steel grip on Hux's upper arm. What's with physical prowess in this family?

"I haven't decided if I want to," Hux says with a pout.

Neither Rey or Poe seem to take him seriously, and on a second thought, after they watched Hux stare with poorly disguised awe at Ben – no, at _Kylo Ren_ , because that's who Ben is during a fight – who was Hux kidding, he _has_ decided that he wants to wait however long it takes for Ben to appear at the venue's back entrance.

"Don't worry, Mittens, we'll wait with you, cause we're nice." Hux opens his mouth to order Poe not to ever call him _Mittens_ again, but the opportunity passes with Rey emphasizing just how _nice_ they are. If it were to Hux, he'd put overall niceness outside the law; there was hardly another thing that started to grate at his nerves as fast as someone else's infectiously positive attitude. While apathy didn't quite cut it for him, Hux always cherished the ability to keep some reserve and filter out the emotions between brain and mouth in a person. No matter how good an orator he was, Hux still was an introvert. He could take only that much of blatant oversharing per day, even if the most of the day had been fun. While Ben could get very talkative and very bold, the sweet sound of silence was not foreign to him. Give that to Hux any time instead of inane small talk.

Sometimes, however, there were barriers; Hux occasionally bumped into them when he tried to talk to Ben about topics straying too close to either his family or the details of his career. While he would have preferred Ben sharing some of this confidential information, he didn't force conversation in that direction. Perhaps it would come to light, one day. Perhaps Ben just is that way (a nagging voice in Hux's head reminds him Ben also has a habit of bottling up feelings until he explodes and that it's never good, but he chooses to ignore it, for now).

Hux gets pulled out of his thoughts (and a passive role in Rey and Poe's argument if Finn found the leftover lunch they left for him in the fridge) by the heavy door swinging open and a hooded figure with a sports bag materializes in the dim evening light and even though Hux can't see their face from this distance, he's sure from the posture and the stride that it's Ben.

Rey knows it too, somehow. "Go get him, tiger!" She stage whispers as she drags Poe away from the scene, again giving no room for Hux to argue, but this time it slips him by just as much as she slipped by him. He waits for Ben to walk closer, smiles as Ben notices him standing there and halts.

"You came to see me?" Ben sounds surprised. A lot. Hux can make out his eyes shining in the dark from under his hoodie.

"Well," Hux begins as he closes the distance between them, "yeah. I mean, congratulations."

"How?"

Hux rolls his eyes. "For starters, I do have functioning eyesight, and you mentioned this to me way back when, and-," he doesn't get to say the rest because Ben drops his bag and lifts Hux up in a bear hug. "I take it you're happy I came," Hux says when his feet hit the concrete again, arms around Ben's neck.

Ben replies with a kiss, deep, slow, bending Hux's back ever so slightly so it looks like Hux clings to him, and honestly, Hux _is_ clinging to him, but to anyone else it's the pull of gravity and nothing more. Humming around Ben's tongue, he presses himself to Ben's chest and stomach. Ben is like a summer night, hot and damp and refreshingly dark after the harsh sunlight of the day; Hux drinks it all in, the texture of Ben's clothes, the solid muscle holding him so tight, the scent of cheap soap and body spray and something else that could be described only as _Ben._ The kiss changes to small, lingering pecks interspersed by whispers of _I can't believe you're here_ and _I thought you didn't care_ , to which Hux scoffs _of course I care_ before Ben is on his lips again, soft and sweet and thorough; Hux savors it, from the gentle nipping on his lower lip to the slightly uncomfortable but oddly nice poke of Ben's nose high on his cheek.

"Hey champ, d'you wanna- oh, sorry!" Comes from the general direction of the gym door and that pulls them apart.

"Do you need to be somewhere tonight?" Hux asks in the three inch gap between them.

Ben nudges their noses together. "Nope."

"Would you like to-," kiss, "-celebrate a little? With me." Hux has barely finished and Ben is already smiling, murmuring _love to_ against Hux's mouth and even though that's just a phrase and Hux certainly isn't awaiting some sappy rom-com plot-twist regarding this relationship, he straightens at the words, brightens up as if they were meant for him. In one wild moment he pictures it, how it would go, how it would end, what he would say-

"Are you hungry," he asks instead.

"Starving," Ben says as he collects his bag and snakes one arm around Hux's waist. There is an unwritten rule that they always go to Hux's place no matter where they meet up, tonight being no exception; since Ben is tired they end up with a hearty Chinese takeout along the way and stop at a convenience store to get beer since Ben more often than not complains about the detox juices in Hux's fridge. Perhaps if Hux told him he's made most of them himself, he might complain less out of politeness.

The speed with which the meal is over is directly proportional to Ben's hunger; Hux ends up giving him half of his springrolls and a good third of his fish when Ben keeps eyeing his plate after he's finished his own, never mind the two empty bottles of beer on Ben's side of the table.

"I thought sportsmen watched their diet," Hux muses while watching Ben shovel rice into his mouth with the fervor of a man stranded on a deserted island. It shouldn't be cute. It really shouldn't be.

"I haven't eaten anything since 10 a.m.," comes Ben's muffled retort.

"That doesn't sound very healthy."

Ben swallows. "Who cares, it's not like I'm gonna die of my eating habits." He drains the last of the beer and before he can wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, Hux hands him a napkin. "Thanks."

"Isn't it bad for forming muscle mass and tissue regeneration?"

Snort.

"What?"

"Nothing, just, sounds a bit weird to get a lecture on bodybuilding from a twinky stringbean," Ben laughs, "I like it, though. The stringbean part."

"You like me giving you lectures, too," Hux says with a spark in his eye. He starts cleaning up the table and Ben moves to help him. "Don't think I didn't notice. I see right into your dark soul." He kisses the faint blush sitting high on Ben's cheeks – although it's probably more the alcohol than embarrassment.

Ben doesn't say anything to that, just gives Hux a grin and as soon as they're done in the kitchen Hux pushes him into the bedroom, on the bed; the moment Ben's lying flat on his back Hux climbs on him, tugs off his sweater and shimmies out of his jeans.

"Hands off," he says when Ben wants to mimic him and pins his wrists to either side of Ben's shoulders. "Let me do this for you." He settles between Ben's legs and pulls off both Ben's sweatpants and underwear, just enough so he can reach the usually off-limits space of Ben's inner thighs. At the sight of Ben's filling cock, Hux licks his lips.

"Shit, Hux, you're so hot."

"Am I." He helps Ben's arousal with his hand, presses the hardening length to Ben's stomach and sucks a kiss to Ben's exposed balls, another one when Ben rewards him with a soft moan. He mouths at them, breathes over the wet spots left in his wake, licks a fat stroke all the way up to the tip of Ben's cock. Effects are immediate – Ben going boneless, groaning and muttering nonsense words under his breath; Hux's cock twitches at the thought of the power he possesses and that Ben is letting him have it, pliant and open to any games Hux has in mind, although tonight Hux's goal is slightly different. Tonight he wants to please Ben.

And so Hux takes extra care once he's suckling the engorged cockhead, tongue teasing its slit, one hand stroking the base as he takes Ben's cock as far in as it will go. He moans around the thickness, knowing Ben likes him making all sorts of noises, drools at the bitter taste of precum. When the tip of his nose reaches the bushy curls below Hux retreats, repeats the descend once, twice before planting a parting kiss to the tip and climbing atop Ben again, one of Ben's thighs between his own; he buries his face into Ben's nape and breathes him in, traces a line from there to Ben's mouth with little pecks.

It's then when he realizes Ben is not only unusually quiet but also impossibly still.

"Ben?" Hux whispers.

No response.

But Ben is still hard. And _Hux_ is hard. He laughs because whatever disappointment he may feel is outweighed by the absurdity of the situation, because it _is_ funny, even if a bit frustrating, and Ben _did_ have a tiring day. Maybe it's a miracle he got so far before falling into the blissful slumber rivalling that of the dead.

Whatever, Hux decides; what's the harm in a little somnophilia, and it's not like Ben told Hux to stop, and Hux might take up the challenge of getting Ben off in his sleep, which is something he's often wondered about but never got the chance to try with any of his partners. And so Armitage Hux, 27, is found in his bedroom humping another man's leg like a teenager while keeping his voice down and offering in return one of the sloppiest handjobs of his entire life (again, like a teenager). He chuckles; perhaps it's for the best Ben isn't conscious to witness it.

After indeterminate amount of time as Hux is balancing on the precipice of orgasm, he can feel Ben's cock pulse in his palm and then Ben's hand comes to rest at the base of his skull and even though he can't tell if Ben is clinging to something warm in his sleep or if it was intentional, Hux swallows a whine as he spills over Ben's taut belly.

"Shit, Hux, did I fall asleep on you?"

"Yes." Ben is so warm under him, he doesn't want to move ever again. "Don't worry, it was kind of funny."

"Hmm." Squeeze. "I'll make it up to you."

Hux smiles, kisses Ben's neck just over the artery. Pulse, life, Ben. "You have the whole morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> descriptions of violence (boxing match); somnophilia; "psycho" slur (used by a minor character)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this got delayed, had some issues.
> 
> Content specific warnings in the end notes.
> 
> As always, thanks to frapandfurious for beta and the moral support <3

Straight from work and with no real excuse, Hux knocks at the shabby door in the even shabbier building and waits. He hates waiting, in any form. Especially when he's waiting for something he can't predict.

Ben's been around for a week, give or take, after the mood of the competition subsided and gave way to brooding and the inevitable withdrawal. Hux could watch it happen, like he could watch the pristine white walls of his family home peel off with every summer or the woman that used to be his Mom hollow out until only husk remained, although his younger self couldn't recognize it for what it was, then.

Now, the current Hux likes to think he's grown and learned from past mistakes, and so he waits, the door being its scratched and immovable self marked by a little plaquette, a faded "5" hanging only on one nail.

"What are you doing here?" Ben says as he opens the door. It sounds surprised, not accusing. Hux releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Poe gave me your address," Hux explains, lowering his gaze for a second as if he were taking a scolding. He's a bit sheepish; he's never been to Ben's place before. "May I come in?"

Ben nods, though he looks sullen. As soon as the door closes behind him, Hux can see why – he didn't notice it from the hallway because of Ben's hair blocking the light from his face, but there's a large bruise over his left eye, still a bit swollen on the lower eyelid.

"Oh, _Benny_ ," Hux breathes before he can stop himself.

"Hux, please, don't."

"Just tell me- wait!" Hux quickly leans on the closed door holding Ben to him who was already twisting the doorknob to get out, far away from inquiries and offerings of sympathy. "Tell me if you need anything, alright?"

"I don't need pity."

"I'm not pitying you, dumbbell, I want to," he pauses, not knowing what he really means to say. "To take care of you." From him it sounds like dismissal, like taking care of a target. Really smooth.

At least Ben has stopped trying to walk out on him – he sighs against Hux's ear, hands hanging limp at his sides, focusing on Hux rubbing circles into his back, on Hux's warmth, on the faint flowery smell of Hux's shampoo.

"I couldn't win."

He waits for Hux's response, for the inevitable disillusion, because whatever assumptions Hux had about him must have disappeared by now, any possibility of Hux seeing him as anything else than a failure and a poser adding to the list of dissolved dreams, and Ben is nearly crumpling under the blaringly vacant silence. In his head materialize the faces of his father, his mother, uncle Luke, all looking at him as if they knew this was coming for him all along, the unspoken "and what did you expect?" written all over them. Ben squeezes his eyes shut till he can see dancing shapes on the backs of his eyelids.

"Sometimes, you can't win," Hux says, and to Ben it sounds as if a priest has absolved him of all his sins. "No matter how much you want to, or how hard you try, sometimes it's decided for you. It's alright, Ben," although Ben feels far from alright, holding onto Hux with the crazed urgency of a drowning man.

Hux seems to understand. "I think you're a good boxer."

"You say that just because you know me."

Hux pulls at Ben's shoulder, forces Ben to look him in the eye. "No, I mean it. You know, when I saw you, I was really taken aback, I thought 'is this my Benny in the ring' because of how professional you were," Ben chuckles at that, though it's devoid of mirth, "sure, I know jackshit about the sport but I think I can tell when somebody kicks ass at it." He swipes his thumb over Ben's cracked brow, leans in to kiss Ben's eyelids. "You certainly looked like you did."

Exhausted, but finally flooded with something akin to relief, Ben lets it pull him into the undertow; the kiss Hux presses onto the corner of his mouth is the cue and soon he's sucking on Hux's lower lip, humming around Hux's tongue as it breaches his mouth. Hux always tastes so sweet. Sweet and juicy and with a hint of spice. Ben has gotten used to it, as well as to gathering Hux in his arms and carrying him to bed, to the color burst of Hux's hair against plain white sheets, to the flutter of his pale lashes as Hux's eyes close with a murmur. In the warm evening glow, Hux seems to shine, and Ben's eyes water before he's even done undressing him; he lowers his head to kiss every dot on Hux's chest to hide it, because there's no rational explanation to it, except, except-

Hux gently tugs at his ears, brings him in for a kiss he breaks only to pull Ben's tank top over his head, runs his palms over Ben's exposed torso, stops to cup his pecs. It's a handful; Ben lets out a low moan as Hux teases his nipples and under each of Hux's touches Ben seems to unravel like a tightly coiled wire.

"Hux, please, let me," he begs, grabbing at Hux's upper thighs for emphasis, anticipation sending shivers down his spine; he can't control the want, the desire he has for Hux, nor the side-effects that come with it even if that means he can't think for longer than exactly one and a half second because Hux is right here, in his bed, with open arms and permission on his lips that keeps Ben's brain from a meltdown. He guides Hux to lie on his side and presses himself against his back, noses at the short ginger hair at the base of Hux's skull while placing open-mouthed kisses to the strong tendons in Hux's neck, one slick finger already down Hux's hole. The sounds he draws from Hux are like music to his ears, the whine Hux makes at the addition of a second finger goes straight to his cock. He bites at his nape, just a nip not even enough to bruise, and the next moment Hux's hand is in his hair and pulling him in for a kiss.

"I can take it, Ben," Hux whispers against Ben's lips, "come on, take what you need," and Ben is lost; he barely manages to roll a condom on himself and then he's pushing in, slow, hugging Hux tight with both arms and muttering praises under his breath because for all he knows, Hux is the cure to everything that ails him. Hux arches into it, muffles his moans in the pillow, one hand over one of Ben's. Under his forearm, Ben feels Hux's ribcage expand, feels how it resonates with every beat of Hux's heart – badump, badump, badump – listens to how Hux's gasps and whines fit into this intricate polyrhythm. He does his best to match it – these days the only thing he ever wanted was to match Hux, to be at his side, to repay at least some of what Hux has done for him, make him laugh, watch him sleep and kiss his nightmares away, run through summer rains with him, treasure him like the gold at the end of a rainbow, and at this moment Ben sincerely thinks he can do all that and finally put his broken, dysfunctional self behind.

This time, Ben tips over the edge first, whines into Hux's ear as it hits him; he keeps thrusting through the aftershocks, erratic and irregular, hand working Hux's cock to completion because he'd be terribly ashamed of himself if he left Hux hanging.

The sun has set by the time Ben is stroking Hux's hair, watching Hux's exposed back, at the hint of scapulae and vertebrae under skin. Birdbones. Sharp, yet delicate. Like the rest of Hux.

"Why do you carry the knife?" Hux asks when he rolls over and into Ben's embrace, the tip of his nose just touching Ben's throat.

"Where did that come from?"

"I remembered that time, when you were trying to eat me. The bruises reminded me." He weaves his fingers through Ben's silky locks, gently scratches the skin there. "Doesn't seem like you need it for self-defense."

Ben presses a kiss to Hux's forehead, weighing his answer. "It was my grandfather's. He was a German paratrooper in the second World War." Tilting his head enough that he could fit Hux's under his chin, Ben contemplates if he should leave it at that, then thinks _screw it_ and goes on: "He lost one arm in the fights and suffered from crippling PTSD. After the war he left for America where he married my grandmother, and for a while it was going fine, but one day he tried to hang himself. Grandma caught him – in the struggle, he went mad and after the rope snapped, he hurt her. She was pregnant at the time. She didn't make it." Ben registers Hux's hand on his neck has gone still. "I think he never forgave himself; of course Mom always told me he didn't feel any remorse for what he did, but I guess she hated him for destroying her life right at her birth. He died before I was born, locked up in a psychiatric ward."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Hux manages to breathe out after a shared moment of silence.

"It happened long ago. I've never even met them."

Hux resumes playing with Ben's hair, head tucked in the crook of Ben's neck. "Thank you for telling me, Ben."

*

It's too bright when Hux wakes up, although he has trouble placing why. Ben's hair shines almost auburn in the light and the bronze tan of his skin glows soft. He's softly snoring.

Hux disentangles their limbs and he starts searching for his clothes, pulls out his phone from the pocket in his suit.

"Damn."

He should have been at work thirty minutes ago – no matter how casual the casual Fridays are, an unexcused absence is bad rep. As quietly as he can afford in his rush, Hux closes the door to Ben's cramped bathroom and runs up the shower. The water ran more cold than warm, but perhaps it was for the best, not to make him unnecessarily linger (he's always one step from indulging in long showers or baths). He considers washing his hair but since the only shampoo Ben owns looks like to be Old Spice he skips that part and settles for running wet fingers through his hair couple times. The luxury of brushing his teeth as well as shaving was not granted to him, and for once Hux is glad for the mint bubblegum he carries around in his bag.

Going back, Hux hastily dresses, making his best effort to smooth out the wrinkles; someone will probably notice his state of disarray and put two and two together, but Hux's icy demeanor works wonders. Only one of his coworkers is unperturbed by it.

And lately, if Hux is being honest to himself, it melts around Ben. Ben who's still asleep, one arm and a leg draped over the dimple in the mattress Hux has left behind. That bruise still marrs his face, but doesn't take away that air of peace.

_It'_ _s_ _the sex_ , Hux always thought, that has made him stick around Ben for so long. Now, he isn't sure anymore.

But it's no use thinking about it on a workday morning with no time to spare.

"Ben," he whispers as he gently shakes Ben awake. "I'm late for work, I got to go."

"You're dressed already?"

"Of course I am, I'm late." He can't help but smile a little at Ben's disorientation and sleep-rough voice. "Go back to sleep; I just didn't want to disappear without a word."

"You're going to." Ben seems conscious enough, watching Hux through puffy eyelids, the sunlight lighting a dozen sparks all over his irises.

"I'm not," Hux says before he kisses Ben's forehead. "You're silly. Aren't I talking to you right now?"

Ben tugs at his tie and because Hux can't afford any more creases in his clothes, he goes with it, lets Ben kiss him on the mouth, bad breath and all. It's not like morning sex slash making out is something new to them. He continues even after Ben releases his hold on him, sucks at Ben's chapped lower lip. Before they part, Ben presses a closed-mouth kiss to Hux's lips, like a signature.

"I'll call you," Hux promises before he closes the front door and leaves Ben there. Out in the street, he whips up his phone again and without giving himself enough time to think it over, taps on Poe Dameron's number.

"Poe," he says sooner than the man can answer on his own, "what do you know about Ben's manager?"

*

_Tidge,_

_I trust you a) with this information, and b) to destroy this letter as soon as you finish reading it. I hope you understand I didn't want to talk it over the phone – call me paranoid, but better safe than sorry. That applies to you, too – I sure hope you know what you're doing, cause all this might get pretty ugly pretty fast. Try not to blame me for keeping my distance. It's not that I wouldn't care, but this is beyond me in every sense. I can't deal with it._

_I wish you luck. If there's anyone who can do anything about Ben's problem, it's you. Just take care not to get swallowed whole in the process (I don't have to tell you that happens all too easily with the Organa-Solos)._

_So. The first time we heard about this 'talent seeker' from Ben was about seven years ago._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor character deaths (mentioned); mentions of attempted suicide (not by the main characters)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's sticked with this fic so far - we're finally getting close to the end, all your comments have been so encouraging, thank you ;v; 
> 
> As always, thanks to frapandfurious for help with editing <3
> 
> Content-specific warnings in the end notes.

The following weeks Hux works twice as hard – at the office to pay the bills and in his free time on what he came to call Ben's Problem.

He puts down his findings in a thin notepad he has on himself all the time partly because Dameron _did_ make him paranoid and partly because a pencil can keep up with his thoughts better than a keyboard, even though he smashes keys at his day job forty hours a week. When Ben saw him use it for the first time he didn't stop teasing Hux for it.

"Hot on the case, detective?" He mocked before he slipped his arms around Hux's waist, looking over his shoulder; Hux snapped the notepad shut on instinct. "Don't worry, I'd need the equal of the Rosetta stone to make anything of your writing," and for once Hux wasn't entirely offended, if it meant his notes were safe from Ben.

_Especially_ Ben, because Hux has to be 100% sure that he has solid evidence before he can think about acting on it, and once he does, Ben will finally have his own say in this. Hux feels fairly certain Ben doesn't want this arrangement to go on – he's seen enough of Ben's sour moods and his unwillingness to speak about his career in detail (which is increasingly frustrating – the Bespin Cup has left Hux with a lot of well-meaning questions and all of them keep falling on deaf ears). Ben needs a nudge, a hint as to how to approach this. Hux has the means to provide him the sign.

What Hux learned from Poe's letter left a sour taste in his mouth. All those years ago, when Ben's family still tried to keep some track of him, it came to light that Ben was most likely fighting in semi-legal matches (still as a junior athlete) under Snoke's management, and Organa's tongue-lashing that followed ended up with Ben running away from home when he was barely seventeen. While Organa knew – or suspected, at the least – that Snoke was running a rather shady business in sports from the rumors that prevented Snoke from launching a political career, she has left Ben to his own devices; or rather to Snoke's devices. And Ben took it as a victory, even if it came at a cost. With the both of them being too stubborn to admit the other may not be entirely wrong, Hux isn't surprised they haven't gotten over this. They seemed ridiculous to him until he realized he had more or less the same relationship with his own father – perhaps less dramatic, but not any warmer. Perhaps Hux should not have left Father's company the way he did. Perhaps he could have tried to work it out. Even after Mom died.

With a tang of blood on his tongue from biting his lower lip a little too hard, Hux startles back into the present, to his laptop screen containing more data to be analyzed, to the wrinkles on Ben's t-shirt that looks like a parody of a cocktail dress on him, to the sound of Ben playing a puzzle game on Hux's phone, curled into a ball by Hux's hip. They fucked earlier – as always, and Hux took his chance to work on The Problem more when Ben dozed off.

"What are you doing, anyway," Ben asks when he grows bored of the game, "you look even more a workaholic than before."

"I'm not addicted to work."

Teeth graze the exposed skin of Hux's thigh, just below – or above, depending on where you began the journey – the hem of the tee. "You are. You always check your emails before going to bed and first thing in the morning." Hand moving up his shin, stopping to rest at his knee. "Unless I fuck you hard enough to pass out."

"I don't _pass out_."

"You do. And you drool in your sleep."

"Oh yeah, because you're such a graceful sleeper; once I mistook your snoring for a thunderstorm."

Ben looks up at him, comically hurt, and Hux gives up on getting any more of his research done. "Give me five minutes," he says as he encrypts any sensitive data and covers his cyber-tracks before turning the laptop off. Ben's on him before he's even done placing it on the night stand.

*

Progress gradually slowed down. Maybe Hux should think over his method – there's only so much information stored on servers, and even less of the useful sort, and Hux can't help the feeling of something important slipping by only he's unable to pinpoint what. He's growing tired, and with being tired comes being reckless, and that's a thing he can't afford, not now, not ever. He rather goes to mindlessly sift through a newsfeed to unwind and that's where he gets hit with an entirely unexpected find: "Exclusive club free of lawsuit threat" reads the headline but what catches Hux's eye is the sign on the accompanying photo: _The Finalizer._

He's heard that before; didn't Ben get banned there?

The article goes: C _laims about illegal activities taking place in_ _T_ _he Finalizer – a favorite gathering place of the Bespin upper class – have been rendered invalid after recent investigations, the police department citing "lack of evidence"._ _The_ _initial impulse to targe_ _t the club_ _was after a renowned combat sports referee and_ _The Finalizer's frequent customer,_ _Jann B_ _aldur_ _Huttner_ _, was accused of influencing the outcome of_ _the last year's kickboxing National Cup semifinals_ _._ _Among The Finalizer's clientele can be found executives of various sport federations and leagues, giving rise to rumors of_ _buoyant corruption. However, nothing has been proved to either_ _Huttner_ _, nor to the establishment's owner, Quintilius Snoke-_

Hux nearly drops his phone because _how_ _the fuck_ didn't he think of good ol' bribes earlier? It was the most natural thing to do – buy a referee, bet a crazy amount of money on an even crazier outcome, and voilà – cash shower! Jesus. When did he get this sloppy? If Father knew, Hux would die of embarrassment.

He returns to his laptop, pulls up the results of every recorded fight Ben has ever had, and begins the tedious task of tracking the betting odds corresponding to Ben's losses which he used to ascribe to Ben's temper rather than to the strings pulled by Ben's manager, and- oh.

_Oh._

What was that thing Ben said? _I couldn't win?_

"Well, shit."

*

There was another thing Hux noticed while scourging for intel on The Finalizer – a clandestino trying to merge into the environment and failing spectacularly, a thin cable disappearing under the suit's lapels pointing at a minimalist headset, and a badge pinned to his chest, seemingly innocent, but Hux would recognize the black, robust sun on white background anywhere; he himself had it adorn his suit, the black one he left behind along with the job.

The _New Order_ security. Hux Sr.'s company.

While the idea of having to do anything with them is unappealing at best, Hux can't pretend he possesses the luxury of not confronting Father if he wants to succeed in his lone crusade against Snoke without condemning Ben to law and to the loss of his career. Nobody will care about what Ben has to say, only about his part in the fraud – even if Hux doesn't know Ben's motives he doubts Ben gets some extra profit from the deal. He's seen where Ben lives.

It's a logical thing to do now, Hux says to himself once he's paid the obnoxious entrance fee at The Finalizer, to check a reliable contact. Although he's not in the company anymore, he's still the CEO's heir and once-most trusted asset. They all know that. Brendol is too proud and old-fashioned to disclose the nature of their relationship to his subordinates.

In another life, Hux might be interested in the bar or the gambling going on all around him, but in this one he spots the reason of his visit and makes for the far side of the club, to the secluded door designed like a spaceship's airlock with a foot-tall "VIP" painted on the surface. On either side stands one goon – Hux recognizes one from the photo and the other from his time at the company. Darren Sloane – relative of the navy admiral only nowhere near her greatness, Brendol gave him a job on the admiral's request (or maybe order, civilian status or not). Hux approaches him straightaway, sure of step and confident.

Sloane visibly startles. "Boss?!"

So Father's kept everything under the lid. Good. "Sloane. We need to talk, in private."

Sloane nods to his partner, then leads Hux out to the street via the maintenance entrance – no cameras, Hux notes, nor in the hallway with the VIP section – to continue this strange dejà vu.

"The investigation – what do you know of it?" Hux asks once Sloane makes sure they're not being listened to.

"Sir, I can't disclose any information, you know that-"

"I also know the rumors are true, so cut to the chase." Most likely, but that's not allowed in a haggle. "What did they find, or rather, what did they _not_ find?"

Sloane looks rigid for a while, and Hux considers the possibility of Sloane actually growing some backbone, however wild that sounds, but then Sloane's shoulders sag just a little bit and Hux knows he's won. "We took care of any footage and evidence on site."

That's a new one – Brendol usually didn't operate outside the law. Guess a lot can change in just two years. "Destroyed?"

"We were to collect only – if the Boss got rid of it, I don't know."

Boss didn't because it's a too good an advantage to pass, Hux thinks. He can work with that. "Good job, Sloane. Keep it up."

"Boss," Sloane almost salutes and returns to his post. With luck, nobody will question this intermezzo – every contractor is aware of not interfering with the company's _modus operandi_ and Brendol is too self-centered to admit that he needs to exclude his immediate family from the hierarchy, especially when the employees still trust Hux on a basis of some twisted camaraderie. Hux smiles as he rounds a corner and leaves The Finalizer's retro neon sign behind.

*

"Come on in," Hux says instead of a greeting, pulling Ben inside. "You won't believe what I've found, come on," he urged all the while trying to drag Ben to the living room, pausing only enough for Ben to toe off his shoes.

"So eager today."

"I have a reason to be. Sit down," Hux orders. He sounds like a boy who wants to show his parents his insofar greatest achievement. Confused, Ben sinks into the chair in front of Hux's PC; Hux settles behind him with one arm draped over Ben's shoulders and brings up the documents he spent the past two weeks collecting.

"Hux, what is all this?"

"It's evidence. I've had suspicions your manager isn't operating in entirely legal terms, so I did some digging around." He points from one line to another on the screen, "you see, he has a history with bribing referees and sports federations and God knows whom else, and he’s scamming betting companies, and that's probably just the tip of the iceberg. Using you, among others. " Ben keeps silent, so Hux presses on, bringing up more incriminating material and data. "I can get him locked up in a matter of days, Ben," he says, presses a kiss to Ben's temple. "This is your way out."

One, two, ten seconds pass. Nothing. Just an hour ago, Hux imagined how Ben would look at him, in that wide-eyed fashion he reserved for the times when Hux pleasantly surprised him, or when Hux kissed him before parting; in that way that pulled a string somewhere in Hux's chest.

By twenty-seven, Hux should've known better than to have expectations of people. Ben included.

"I don't know, Hux."

Hux looks at Ben, _actually_ looks at him for the first time since he crossed his threshold tonight, takes in the slumped shoulders, how Ben's face is drawn in the reflection in the window. Perhaps he should have calculated for Ben's current mood before confronting him with the bleak reality of his career arrangement. And yet.

And yet...

Hux couldn't gauge what he did wrong.

"I don't understand." He hugs him closer, immediately retracts, because suddenly, he has absolutely no idea what it is that Ben wants. "How do you _not_ know? He's only using you- he's _abusing_ you."

"It's complicated," Ben deadpans, rising from the chair. He starts to pace, runs his hand through his hair once, twice. Ben's other hand is in the pocket of his jeans, as if nervously playing with something and- _fuck,_ Hux remembers the fucking _knife-_ he's been so sure Ben wouldn't lay his hand on him, but now his anxiety erupts in cold sweat.

"Ben, what is it you can't let go-?"

"Shut up, SHUT UP, stop fucking asking!"

"Perhaps I wouldn't need to ask if you'd tell me!" Great, now Hux is shouting too. He takes a step forward because he'll be damned if he backs down from a good fight. "What do you expect – every once in a while you appear here, bloody, beat, and I'm just supposed to watch? Am I just your fucking stress reliever – the less I know the better?"

"You have no idea why I'm doing it and you have no idea what's keeping me there, and you're threatening to tear it all down." Ben stops pacing and just glares back, lower lip shaking, eyes drawn into slits.

Hux laughs, sounding manic "And what exactly is it that I'd be tearing down?" He closes in even though his sense of self-preservation screams otherwise. "A perfect losing streak?"

He doesn't see Ben's hand move – all his senses hyperfocus on the disproportionately loud clap and the sting that follows. He can't control the tears – of anger? Or pain? He's sure it can't be sadness – welling in his eyes and he's barely able to make out Ben's face which looks just as shocked as Hux feels.

"Hux- I'm so sorry-"

"Get out."

"I'm sorry-"

"GET OUT!"

Hux doesn't dare to breathe in the time Ben – no, not Ben, this stranger who fucking _assaulted him_ – walks out of the room; the door slams shut; Hux counts to ten and then runs to turn the key twice and latches the chain. Everything is suddenly so silent.

So empty.

Back in the living room, he snaps shut his laptop, tries to calm down but still his chest feels too constricting for his wildly thumping heart. It resonates as far as his throat. On the way to bedroom he notices something alien lying on the floor and panic flares in him again as he recognizes the paratrooper knife – it must have fallen out of Ben's pocket while they were too busy screaming at each other. It lies there, like a stain on the carpet, a cursed ring, a plague-bearing flea. Hux kicks it under the bookcase and slams the bedroom door on it.

Only then, in his most personal, secluded space, he lets the tears fall.

*

A day later Hux can't sleep.

He lies on his side in bed, clean sheets stiff around him; he had to change them because the previous ones were so soaked in Ben's scent they made Hux dizzy. Even the pillow itself had to go, so his head is currently resting on the tiny silky cushion from the couch. He dropped it at the cleaner's this morning. It's like he failed to measure the amount of Ben he could take and now got sick with stomachache.

There is no visible trace on Hux of the night before; the burning sensation had been gone by the time he fell into uneasy sleep and during his morning hygiene Hux didn't see any bruise, not even a finger imprint. Hux figured he can count that as luck, because Ben had the strength to hit him hard enough to break his cheekbone if he wanted.

Again, he's playing with the thought Ben didn't actually want to strike him, but then his judgment of people wasn't exactly reliable.

And so, as the clock on the bedside table ticks from midnight to 1 a.m., Hux lies there, absentmindedly playing with the switchblade he couldn't resist digging out from under the bookcase before going to bed, thinking about how he got into this bitch of a situation with every flick of the knife.

Much to his dismay, Hux has to admit the knife is not only aesthetically pleasing, but also of a fine craftsmanship. No wonder – it was made in times when manual labour got the recognition it deserved. Simple, utilitarian design and maximized efficiency. It took him a little while to figure out how to coax the blade out of the faded, wooden handle; every time he saw Ben with it the steel just appeared there in his hand, and it probably takes some practice to do it fast and make it look like a jackknife, since the blade comes out only if pointed downwards. Prior to this, Hux just assumed this was a type of a switchblade with history. Now it's a – what is it even? It looks dangerous, but it's no weapon.

The notification light on his phone switches on, but he ignores it. Most likely it's Poe trying to get a hold of him, because fucking Poe immediately knows about every bullshit going on in Hux's life even though Hux himself never said anything to him. When that happens, Poe rushes to his rescue assuring him he's a friend Hux can lean on should he ever need anything. Hux finds it strange. Sometimes they don't see each other for weeks, months even. What kind of a friend doesn't mind that?

Although, all things considered, Hux isn't good at reading people.

*

Eventually, Hux breaks down – that has happened only once before, and Hux thought he would never feel similarly uprooted and out of touch again, or at least for a very long time. Based on the fact that on his doorstep stands Poe "you-got-a-friend-in-need" Dameron and Hux feels dangerously close to fainting, or throwing up, or maybe both, he had probably thought wrong.

"Tidge, you look like hell."

"What do you want." Hux is too strained to deal with this extroverted avalanche.

Poe lets himself in – Hux doesn't put up any real resistance. "Just to check up on you. You never pick up when I call – why do you even have a phone?"

Hux grunts something. His brain tells him he envies Poe, that he's so fucking jealous he could throw a tantrum, just like-

"Hey," Poe reaches out – he has to bend back so much, "I'm here for you, you get that? I know you're tough, you don't have to worry about your image or something-"

Newly frustrated, Hux grits his teeth. "Just shut up," he spits on his way to the apartment, to the main room, clean and orderly and so insultingly _right_ that Hux doesn't feel like at home anymore; he wishes he could let go and sweep everything from the kitchen counter to the floor, pad over the glass shards and throw that creaking barstool out of the window even if the repairs would be worth two months' pay-

He's pulled back from this fantasy by hands on his shoulders and Poe's wide-blown eyes, a sound that sounds like his name and a dull ache in his knees, and only then Hux realizes he's sitting on the floor and that he can't quite recall how he got there. "Fuck," he says – it doesn't sound like his voice. _"Fuck."_

"Hux. It's OK."

"No, it's not OK." He's shaking his head and he's trying so hard to level his tone, to stop his mouth from trembling, to blink away the salt stinging in his eyes, but fucking Dameron hugs him because _of course he does_ and all his efforts go to hell. "You were right all along. There. Happy now?"

"Not really. I'm sorry, Hux."

"He's such an _asshole_."

"Yeah, I know."

"I so much want to hate him but I- I-," Hux stammers before emotions effectively choke him. Poe has his arms around his shoulders, tight and comforting – he's strong and Hux draws some comfort from the solid feeling, but it's nowhere near what he's gotten used to during the past few months; it's like an appetizer that leaves him mildly sated yet craving for more. Half-aware of his own movement he drapes his arms around Poe's torso. "I _miss_ him."

With horror, it dawns on him. _I've already forgiven him_.

He holds on tight as Poe rocks him, helps him through the worst shuddering sobs, soothes him with a stream of whispers Hux recognizes as Spanish and while he can't really understand any of it the almost-musical lilt and the soft trilled r's act like an anchor.

"Come on, let's get you off the floor," Poe says once Hux has calmed down enough, helps him to the sofa and for once Hux doesn't shy away from it. "Can I do something for you?"

"Tell me something to stop me from wallowing in self-pity perhaps?"

"Right. My favorite pizza place shut down."

Hux snorts.

"Hey, I'm a simple man." Hux disagrees with that because no simple person would ever put up with his or Ben's bullshit, but he's not brave enough to say it out loud. "This really threw me off, I noticed it accidentally when I went to get Ben from the- wait, wrong topic."

"From where?"

"He was-," Poe starts, then notices how Hux tenses all over, "-wait, you don't know he was in the hospital?" And as the color from Hux's face drains Poe knows he's screwed up. "Shit, I thought you knew- he's alright, just had about the thousandth concussion-"

_"What?"_

"After a match. It's nothing, I talked to him after and he's fine. Well, physically. Hux, _babe,_ " he says as he gathers Hux in his arms again. "I didn't want to upset you, I didn't realize you wouldn't have heard."

"No, I-." Hux's eyes are swimming again. "I wouldn't have. Fuck."

"Well, there goes my attempt at small talk. It'll be alright, Hux. I promise."

Hux laughs. About all he can do. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep."

"No, really. Things will play out before you even know it. You'll see."

"Oh, sure- did you just _kiss me_?"

"Your hair smells so good, I couldn't resist-"

"Alright," Hux says, squirming out of Poe's embrace; he lets him go willingly, with a smile, and Hux has to admit all this cheered him up a little. "I appreciate you for – stopping by – but now I think it may be your time to go."

Still smiling, Poe nods. "If you need anything, you'll let me know – no excuses, OK?"

"I-"

"Excuses."

A sigh. "Fine. Off you go." On their way to the door, Hux experiences an epiphany. "Thanks."

"My pleasure, gingerbread."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor violence (between the main characters)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content-specific warnings in the end notes. (also I added some tags in the summary)
> 
> As always thanks to frapandfurious for the beta read <3

Mirror shatters under his fist and he can see a crazed animal snarling at him thousandfold from the broken glass. The pain comes later, as well as the hot trickle of blood – it's nothing compared to the white noise in his head and the phantom firetrucks at the edge of his sight. He punches the wall and kicks over the table and screams and screams until his throat burns.

When he collapses amidst the destruction, Ben feels hollow. It's as if he poured every bit of his essence into the unmaking of this room, the same room where he awoke to Hux's kisses and where Hux told him it would be alright. Only the bed emerged from Ben's rampage untouched – the sheets closer to the window still held some of Hux's scent and Ben would rather bite off his own arm than to eradicate this last, untouchable part of Hux that has been left to him.

He crushes a glass-shard in his palm in an attempt to get some relief from the pain. This time Hux won't patch it up with bandaids; Ben's throat constricts as he remembers how Hux used to check on his hands, how he'd trace the healing scrapes and tug at his fingers. How he told Ben he needs to take extra care of them since they're his source of income.

Little did he know Ben would turn it all against him.

He sits there, fist clenched and driving the glass deeper into the flesh in a sick sort of punishment and tears welling in his eyes, hating the world and hating his life and most of all, with a ferocity rivalling divine anger, hating himself. Not even the pain can take that away – it's like waiting for his sense of self-preservation to kick in but it won't, because he doesn't give a fuck about his wellbeing anymore, not when the only thing he ever did was hurt the only person that seemed to care about any of this. Hux was like a rainbow in the rain that was Ben's shitty life.

And Ben should have known Hux would be gone one day, because rainbows always fucking fade.

*

Snoke set him up for a fight. A winning one. Ben is too distracted to even train for it – he just goes for runs long enough to exhaust him so he doesn't think when he's awake and doesn't dream while asleep. The gashes in his hands make a good excuse for not going to the gym. Besides, the other guy is paid too and will go easy on him, so where's the harm, right?

In the end, the harm was in several things. For one, the dude against him thought independent thinking was hella cool and bought none of Snoke's bullshit. Another thing was Ben's thorough lack of sleep, lack of food, and lack of overall concentration. The match ended as a K.O. and Ben woke up in a hospital with concussion a whole twenty hours later.

Snoke was livid. Threatened to let Ben go and make sure Ben's career would go with him. Ben didn't care. He only cared about a room with floor-length windows on the tenth floor of an apartment building in the South-side residential district.

He tried going there once, a couple days after the fallout, but didn't have the guts to even cross the street, let alone climb the steps and ring the doorbell. Some part of him wished he would glimpse Hux returning home or going out but if he really did, what would he do? Wave at him? Talk to him? He was sure Hux didn't want to see his stupid face ever again. After an hour of sulking in the shade of a particularly overgrown maple, Ben left the scene undecided whether he felt disappointed or glad. The same evening he went to the gym to vent, to ache, to forget.

Poe got a hold of him right when Ben got discharged from the hospital. Said he was sorry about the match and that he hopes Ben's doing fine. Ben told him to fuck off, but that only resulted in Poe bugging him more because, apparently, if he's telling him to fuck off then he must be fine, and before Ben knew it they were sitting in Poe's car and Poe had been interrogating him about his creepy manager and, worse, about Hux.

"Noticed you don't go to see Hux much these days," Poe said, leaning on the steering wheel. "Trouble in paradise?"

Ben groaned.

"Benny, you know you can tell me, I'm an honorable man and will keep your every secret." Pretending to stare out of the window, Ben ignored it, because since the fuck _when_ could Poe Dameron keep a secret. "He won't talk to you? You can't have possibly done something to turn him away, he's seen the worst of you as far as I can tell; no, you're not getting out of here until we make some progress," Poe drilled on as he watched Ben pulling at the handle with such force it would annoy any car-owner, though, apparently, not fucking Dameron. "So. What is it about? Is he withholding sex from you? Dude, he'll get tired of that, you'll see; did he propose to you? Made you watch the entire Bridget Jones saga? Did _you_ propose, man-"

"NO for fuck's sake, I fucking hit him, Poe, I fucked up and won't be surprised if he doesn't want to see my shitty face till the day one of us dies, I ruined it like I ruined everything in my fucking life! Jesus." He dug his fingernails to the barely healed cuts in his palms, shaking in rage and exhilaration. Hats off to Poe for not flinching at the sudden outburst.

"Was it like when you punched me or-"

"No, I slapped him, that doesn't make it any lighter. Just," he turned to face the window again, "stop fucking asking."

"OK, no more questions," Poe said as he flopped back to the seat, hands in an apologetic gesture, "but I'm at your side, man. Whatever makes you feel better, I'll do it. You know, I didn't have much hope when you two hooked up but then Hux handled you so well that one time, me and my girl just stared, jaws on the floor. We were so happy for you, we wished your folks could see it too."

Poe kept talking, recounting events of nearly the whole time of Ben's involvement with Hux and Ben was wondering how the hell did Poe know all that, though at this point it only made Ben crankier than he already was. His teeth hurt from how he kept grinding them together.

"You two have gone so far, dude, even though you fucked up, you couldn't have erased all that."

Ben was counting scars on his hands, eyes swimming, wondering if Hux would have looked at them with his brows furled in the way Ben learned to recognize as concern and kissed every single one of them. "We were never meant to make it this far."

Poe laid a hand on his shoulder. "Don't despair, Romeo."

"Don't fucking call me Romeo. Asshole. What even is it to you, knowing all this bullshit?"

The hand on his shoulder squeezed, and Ben couldn't fathom how he deserved it. "I'm your friend, fuckface. I'm worried about you. You should have known when I didn't stop talking to you after you knocked the shit out of me."

It occurred to Ben he never even apologized for it. "Sorry. Really."

Poe patted his shoulder before turning the key in ignition. "Apology accepted."

*

One overcast afternoon, Ben caves – or finally finds courage, depending on whether Hux is something to run from or something to fight for. Right now, as he stares at the doorbell, it seems like the former; Ben stands in the entrance of Hux's building long enough to create an imaginary scenario of what he's about to do.

Finally he gets inside thanks to an elderly lady living on Hux's floor who recognizes him and lets him in with a conspiratorial wink, although Ben can't share her enthusiasm if he tried. A polite smile and soft "thank you" have to do. Without a second thought he takes the stairs, mulling over his options with each step. Each step, his anxiety grows, so much that by the third floor his hands start shaking and on the seventh he is dangerously close to throwing up.

_Come on, Kylo. You can do this._

Tenth floor. The door on the end of the corridor, eerily familiar. Somewhat distant. Definitely unpassable. Ben takes a deep breath; he's half-inclined to turn and run back down to the street, but it won't do. He can't repeat the same mistakes over and over. He can't take any more of this status quo – not even a second longer, and so Ben raises his hand and knocks.

When he registers footsteps on the other side, he starts. "Hey, Hux."

Silence. That's okay. He's expected that. "Your neighbor let me in. I wanted to ring the bell but she was insistent. So, I'm here." He clears his throat. It's easier to speak to the door than it would've been to Hux. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry for what happened. I know it's not much, but- I want to try. Even if it changes nothing. Hux."

_Do you remember how he shivered when you both were drenched from that summer rain? How close and tight you held him, and his sparkling eyes as green as seafoam? Cold fingers against wet skin; a single raindrop racing down the length of his throat._

"I hurt you. I think it's safe to say I hurt you more than just that last time. And even if you could put me back in line, I had no right. It's something that I realize only in hindsight."

_He asked if you liked dark synth around a lollipop in his mouth, and when you kissed him he tasted of strawberries. The sun danced bronze on his skin and his mouth felt like home._

"I want you to know, Hux, that I regret it. I'm really sorry. I don't know if you can forgive me – I guess I wouldn't forgive myself either. And..."

_You remember, don't you?_

"I miss you, Hux. You are something I never deserved." His throat burns and he hates himself. "I wish I could turn back time. But I can't."

_Of course you do – and God, does it hurt._

"Goodbye, Hux."

There. Not so difficult, was it? The door is smooth against his fingerpads and then Ben turns his back on it and whatever that lies beyond. He feels surprisingly light. Perhaps he hasn't processed it yet and the reality will hit him later.

At the top of the staircase Ben hears a sound that has him immediately frozen in place; click of a lock, that characteristic fwoosh of something pulling open. Ben looks over – and he no longer knows what is real and what is not, because it's Hux there, in the flesh, without any barrier between them, and he looks – sheepish? Nervous? For fuck's sake, he should be angry! Was supposed to glare and curl his lip and offer Ben parting words so cold the hallway would freeze over.

And Hux does none of that. Instead, he meets Ben's gaze, if only for a blink of an eye, and disappears into the apartment.

He left the door open.

*

When Ben appears in Hux's living room for the first time since the fallout, Hux doesn't expect to be this calm, to not feel even a hint of animosity towards him – he's spent half of his childhood resenting Brendol for repeatedly laying his hand on him, and Hux anticipates, _wants_ some of that low, gurgling dislike to resurface now, since he can wring it in the face of its source much more effectively than he ever could with his Father, but none of that ever comes. He sees Ben, two steps deep in the room, with that characteristic slouch, and Hux feels like he's completed a 5-star difficulty 3D puzzle, not like retaliating. Perhaps corporal punishment has fucked him up.

"You forgot here something," Hux supplies when the silence becomes awkward and points to the table. Ben starts in that direction, then stops when he recognizes his grandfather's knife.

"Oh."

Somehow, Hux appreciates Ben doesn't go retrieve it just yet, even if the gesture may be unintentional. It gives him some sense of control. "Come sit down. I suppose you didn't come all the way here to talk to my door."

Ben's mouth twitches, as if to smile, only in the last second he remembers where he is and sits on the sofa in expressionless silence, as far from Hux as he can. It looks too small for him – the whole room does. Hux takes a seat on the other end, to top the situation. Ever since they've known each other this is the first time they're in the same room and out of the other's reach.

It's Ben who cracks first. "I'm really sorry, Hux." He's fidgeting, clasping his hand with the other to ground himself. "I- rationally I know you wanted to help me, but I never process anything right."

Hux doesn't know what to say to that without sounding like an asshole.

"What I said earlier – I meant it. Never mind the door." Even now Ben admits this while not looking at Hux, hidden behind the veil of his hair. It's gotten quite long, Hux notes. Before, he's never had the time to study these details; now it's like he's observing a physical experiment in a vacuum. He inches a little closer. "I don't...," Ben starts, but trails off.

Taking the risk, Hux reaches out, Ben's hands going still under his palm, inquires a tentative "what?", but Ben doesn't continue, and before Hux can ask anything more the unmistakable wetness of a teardrop bursts across his knuckle and without thinking too much about it, Hux guides Ben's head to his shoulder, fingers twisting in Ben's hair, rubbing small circles into Ben's back. Takes a deep breath, wants to say something – anything – but at the same time he's hopelessly lost for words because Ben's limp upper body is a however-many-pounds heavy reminder of Hux's inability to offer some real comfort, then his hyper-aware mind forces him to rewatch the last memory of Mom's sad smile and only then he gets a grip. "I've forgiven you."

In his arms, Ben breaks. "How do you not hate me – I hate myself for it so much," he stammers through the sobs, shoulders trembling, tears soaking Hux's shirt. "Fucking wanted to die but then realized I would most likely not even _die right_ -"

"Heyheyhey, what is that," Hux cuts him off, "nobody is worth dying over, Ben, OK? No-one." He slumps against the sofa's backrest, trying to fend off the cramp forming in his neck. "And had you done that, I wouldn't be able to live with myself, you know. And I'd miss you."

Ben makes an unsettlingly successful attempt at shaking his head and that's when Hux's anxiety laced with anger just about skyrockets. "Now look at me, you ass," he orders when he's pulled Ben away, "if you ever question anything I say about you again, I swear I'll nail you to the wall by your ears and bite your dick off, not necessarily in that order. Clear?" Dumbfounded, Ben nods; at least he responses well to the commanding tone. "Ten minutes ago you laid your heart out for me and I took it for what it was, so you need to be a little more trusting when it's the other way around. I don't have any ulterior motive or shit like that."

"I- I didn't think-"

"Yes, you didn't think. But now you will." Smoothing his hands down Ben's shoulders, Hux sighs. "I heard you were in a hospital."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"I was worried, when I found out. That the last thing I'd say to you was to get lost. I know it was the right thing to say in the context, but that doesn't change that something could have happened to you and that would be _it_."

Ben doesn't react, save for more tears welling up in his eyes, and Hux wishes he could reach out and wipe them away, but he's having a hard time navigating someone else's emotional breakdown, so he continues with words, and honesty. "I want this to work, Ben. But it won't work the way it is now. Can't you see it?"

"I know. I, I've always kind of known," Ben confesses as those damned tears spill and Hux instinctively tightens his hold, "but it's so hard to even try."

"You're not alone in this." Hux pulls Ben close to him again, partly to comfort, partly to steady himself, to cement his resolve. "I'll do my best to help you, just say how." He pauses, doesn't want to override what he's already said by what he needs to say next – that he can't do all the work himself, but Ben's choked sobs render him half speechless and half helpless. "But you can't do it for me, or for anybody. You must want it for yourself."

"Hux- Hux what if I fuck up again what if-"

"What do you want, Ben?" Hux asks, not unkindly. Ben's breath fluttering against the tear-stained side of his neck tickles.

"To not fuck up."

"So you won't." Ben makes an incoherent noise that could be another sentence, and Hux can't keep the smile from his voice. "I'm sorry, was I supposed to catch that?"

"It's not that simple."

With a heaving sigh, Hux pulls Ben from his one-sided embrace again, tucks the dishevelled hair from Ben's fringe away from his face – Ben is quite the nasty crier, red blotches scattered over his face, eyes puffy and red-rimmed, lower lip quivering and emphasized by the minute twitches of muscle on his chin. "It's not, I agree. But you're a fighter. Don't give me that," Hux says when Ben weakly shakes his head again, "if you weren't, you wouldn't be here now."

They fall silent for a while, just listen to the distant sound of the street below, and Hux finally starts seeing Ben unwind, little by little. Next time Ben speaks, it's almost in his own voice, only a tad raw. "He has my license."

It takes Hux a moment to put it in perspective but once he's had, he feels a new wave of disgust towards Snoke; he's been wondering how he managed to hold power over Ben for so long and now it finally adds up to the rest of the facts. "He won't for much longer, if that's what you want."

"I. Yeah." He flicks his eyes to Hux's. "If you're still willing to, after all that..."

"Wouldn't offer it if I weren't." Without really meaning to, Hux brushes his forehead against Ben's, just the lightest of touches, and his body screams at the memory of having Ben this close, but Hux won't go there, at least not yet. There's still too much left unsaid. "Have you been taking your meds?"

Ben tries folding in on himself but Hux still holds him by his shoulders. "More or less."

"If they make you feel sick there are alternatives-"

"It's not that. Can we leave that for later? Please," Ben says in a small voice; Hux doesn't have the right amount of ruthlessness in him to press the issue. Not anymore.

"You know," he starts, "I lost my Mom to this." He taps Ben's temple to indicate what _this_ means in this particular case. "I can't afford to lose you too."

Ben is staring at him and it occurs to Hux that perhaps he will burst into tears again, that maybe he could have kept this little bit of reasoning for later. "You've never said anything."

Hux shrugs. "It's not – wasn't – relevant, and what would it change, but, Ben – I can't just watch you getting eaten alive by self-destructive thoughts and manipulative geezers; try to have some understanding for me, too. I trust if we set your career on the right track it'll help you in every way; talking to your parents once in a while would too, though I know it's hard-"

"Hux, you're crying?"

"I guess, you stupid idiot," Hux says, pressing his wrist at the one tear that spilled from his eyelids, "I guess I love you. Seriously, of all the stubborn, brusque, hot-headed eejits it had to be you. Idiot," he rests his hand on Ben's chest, daring to look up only for a second to see Ben swallow. He never imagined confessing to someone like this, if ever.

He almost doesn't hear Ben's plea. "Can I kiss you?"

Looking up, Ben is still. Doesn't even blink. Waits for Hux to do this at his own pace.

It's enough for Hux to decide. Moving closer, his eyes dart from Ben's to his lips and back again, half testing whether Ben will keep his restraint and half taking his time to come to terms with himself after what he said. However, Hux is certain he won't take it back – either it will work out or Ben will move on, but Hux himself has crossed the line.

He tilts his head and closes the distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> self-harm; self-hatred; suicide ideation; mentions of past abuse (from Brendol's side)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning in the end notes.
> 
> A million thanks to [frapandfurious](http://archiveofourown.org/users/frapandfurious/pseuds/frapandfurious) for all the help and for listening to me rant about this fic since january ;v; you're a diamond.

Two packs of sugar – that's how much Hux dumps into his double espresso because he's 99.8% certain he's going to need it. He shifts on his chair, brushes his leg over the laptop bag he's placed on the floor to make sure it's still there. As if it could go anywhere. The café is busy but not crowded – just like how he remembers it. It's strange, as if there was a time capsule one would enter the moment they make it past the old-fashioned wooden door.

Which now swings open.

Being here and seeing Father sets off some sort of an instinct that will guide Hux through the procedure, like it did number of times before. Technically speaking, he's done this so many times, he can surely do it again.

In reality, Hux's feet press together – the only nervous gesture he's allowed since his upper body is under the scrutiny of Brendol's one-eyed stare – and in his mind, he makes a real effort to summon a not entirely unpleasant memory of his now only parent. God knows he's trying.

Brendol only nods as he takes seat, and they don't really talk until there's a shot of bourbon in front of him. "So?"

To anybody else, it would sound flat and dismissive, but Hux has learned to recognize every variation of Brendol's tone over the years – of them all, disinterest he knows best, but today it's not there. Today there's a hint of patience, curiosity even. Today might not go completely wrong.

Before he can read any further into it (what good has ever come from that), Hux reaches for his bag and pulls out a stack of papers, simply bound with only a nylon thread. It's formatted in the manner every data file is in Father's company – Hux could recite the norm from memory if you woke him at 3 a.m. He slips it across the table, keeping neutral expression even as, much to Hux's delight, Brendol's lights up with surprise.

"Somehow," Brendol starts, "I doubt that means you're coming back."

"You aren't wrong about that." Hux weighs his options, considers every phrasing possibility he has. "There is something I want to bring to your attention."

"You could've stopped after the 'I want'."

Hux leans forward. "My personal interests aside, you might want to reconsider your approach. As I recall, preventing the course of justice wasn't one of your methods."

With just one sentence the conversation turned into a staring contest, but it leaves Hux unperturbed. In another lifetime, when he still prioritized impressing Father, it would signal the beginning of a refute. In this one, Hux stares back, indifferent.

Eventually, Brendol gives. "You're in no position to question my actions."

"True, but you know you're treading a fine line. You know just how much it can backfire." Leaning back in his chair, Hux gives the room an important look as if the person he is in fact talking to is a mere secondary subject. "I may not have always agreed with you, but at the least I respected you, as a businessman. As someone who gets the job done on their own terms." He looks back at Brendol, and it hits him just how old he has become. "Now, I'm not sure."

A second passes in silence and then Brendol looks at the document Hux brought; he opens it to the first page and Hux takes the moment to reward himself with a sip of the too-sweet coffee because he had expected to get to this stage through more hardship. Instead, it looks like he has Father's attention, maybe even respect. He's accepted it won't ever be affection.

"How did you learn all this? You don't have access to our network anymore."

Hux shrugs. "I have my ways."

Brendol goes through the rest without more interruptions. Hux expects him to say something – anything, really. It's not like him to keep his reservations to himself. Instead, Brendol downs the rest of his glass in one go and signals the waiter for a refill.

"Let's say I'm considering this. You know our policy – making the customer's personal information available to a third party is a contract violation. What are you going to do with that?"

"The customer has violated the contract first," Hux says on autopilot. "Why didn't you break it off then?"

"It was more profitable at the time to go along with it. However," Brendol pauses to take another swig, "I wasn't aware of some of the... circumstances."

Hux raises an eyebrow. "That's not like you."

Brendol grunts.

"You have the means to turn the evidence in without getting directly involved."

"You could have gone to the police, like the respectable citizen you are presenting yourself to be. Instead, you're here. You want something and it's not legal. I'm not senile, you know." Brendol levels him with a stare – for someone whose sight is cut down by 50% it's way too intense, or maybe that's exactly why it is that way. "So, tell me – everything."

This is it, Hux thinks. Breathe in. "There is one, respectively two names that can't be associated with Snoke whatsoever."

Brendol barks out a laugh. "And _you_ tell me something about preventing the course of justice – hah! What a judge."

"I'm not doing this for myself, or for money," Hux hisses, "unfortunately, that's something you'd never understand."

"Watch your tone."

"Oh right, because you watched yours when you kept telling Mom to 'look more pleasant', or when she begged you to not shout in front of me, or when she cried in the bathroom after you fought over some stupid little thing like a misplaced lighter." When you were breaking her, day after day, over the years, until she found her way out on her own terms, with a box of pills in hand, Hux leaves unsaid.

Silence; other voices – white noise; _Millionaire Waltz_ on the radio.

Hux isn't as much angry as he is cold – anger used to be there, before, and especially in the aftermath, since both of them knew why she had done it only neither of them ever dared to voice it. Hux left the company then – Brendol accused him it was out of spite but to Hux it was an act of self-care; had he stayed, they would end up murdering each other, and Hux had no desire to ever do anything for Father again, least of all dying.

"Yes." It's raw and defeated, so unlikely to come from Brendol – and yet, here it is. "I know. It was all my fault."

Hux stares. In the span of five seconds Brendol aged a hundred years.

"I understand you hate me for treating her the way I did, you have every right. How it ended," Brendol pauses, and for a moment Hux actually thinks he might see this brutal, ruthless, larger than life embodiment of authority display some emotion other than fury. "It's one of the greatest regrets of my life."

Hux considers it. "You've come to that conclusion a little too late."

"For her, yes. And for you?"

For the first time in his life, Hux is in control over a conversation with his Father. He thought he'd feel more gratified, more smug, more powerful.

He feels so tired. "I'm not going back to the company – not with you there, but if you do as I ask this one time, I might start forgiving you."

"You strike a tough deal."

"You created the conditions."

"No, it's good, actually. That's how business works. I taught you well." Brendol swallows. "I'm proud of you."

Hux doesn't know how to react. It's a new situation. He prepared for a lot of things to go wrong, not for one thing to go right.

"So, tell me what exactly you need."

*

Brendol kept his word. In a matter of days, Hux came to collect any Ben Solo/Kylo Ren-related data from Snoke's raided office – a contract, transaction history all done on paper because Snoke preached paying in cash, the license. On the bottom of the bag lay a bottle of medication that Hux recognized as the one he force-fed Ben on that evening in his apartment which, first, made him glad that Snoke was probably a very-well organized man since this object didn't mention Ben in any way and yet could be clearly recognized as Ben's by complete strangers and second, furious since this had only one possible explanation. Perhaps this was connected to Ben hitting him. All the more reason to put an end to this now.

The rendez-vous wasn't far from where Ben lives, so Hux decides to go there straightaway – he doesn't know if Ben is home, but he can try. If he's excited about what Ben will say to Snoke getting locked up, he doesn't let it show.

Maybe for the better, since there's no answer when he knocks. Once. Twice. He could have checked with Ben before coming here, it's only polite.

(And, it could prevent the levelling sensation of disappointment.)

He pulls out his phone when there's the sound of someone moving down the corridor.

"Hux!"

He turns: there's Ben alright, duffel bag over his shoulder, faint blush from exertion high on his cheeks, surprised. Hux smiles.

"I didn't know you were coming – have you been here long?"

"Just arrived." He makes room for Ben to open the door. "I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by."

"Next time call, I'm usually out this time of day." Inside, Ben drops the bag to the ground, stops at the table that looks like it survived a gang war, leans against it. His hands pick at the hem of his tee in what Hux can tell is uncertainty.

"Here," Hux says, handing the paper bag to Ben. "I believe this is yours."

Cautious, Ben takes it, spills the contents on the table and sifts through the pile of paper like through sand in an attempt to find seashells. He pauses when he sees the license. Doesn't talk through any of it.

Hux can't hold out any longer. "Is that all? Take a good look." While he has faith in Father's diligence when it comes to business matters, in this case he wants to be 180% sure everything is in order.

"I think so," Ben slowly replies. "Yeah. I-," he wraps one arm around Hux's waist, meets his eye for a second then turns his gaze to the floor. "Thanks."

"From now on, you can't ever mention to anyone that you've worked with him – it's that or your career. OK?"

"How are you so sure no-one will suspect that?"

"If it can't be proved, it's irrelevant," Hux says. In reality, he isn't sure – there _is_ the unpredictable human factor that can turn everything against them, or may not do anything at all. It's a risk, a gamble Ben has to accept and Hux has to believe in – and, for Ben's sake, Hux fervently believes. "Be careful not to slip. Don't give interviews and shit like that."

"Are _you_ my manager now?" Ben jokes; he breathes the words into Hux's hair, ruffling it with that soft staccato-laughter of his. It's the first time in weeks Hux hears it.

"If being professional with you will make you more likely to listen then I'm your personal assistant."

Ben chuckles again, squeezing Hux's hip, and Hux hasn't felt this level of accomplishment in forever. Like he's finally done something irrefutably right and nothing can erase the result. Leaving his mark on the world where it suddenly _matters_.

"What now?"

Taking a step back, Hux takes a long look at Ben. "I've been meaning to ask you," Hux begins before Ben has the chance to get uncomfortable under the attention, "would you move in with me?"

Ben's expression is unreadable. "To keep an eye on me?" He says at last.

"To be there for you," Hux corrects him. While he _does_ want to make sure Ben won't skip meals or meds, that's only the routine, the basics. Rather, he wants Ben to know he's right here, within his reach. Doesn't want Ben to feel out of touch and alone with his thoughts.

"If you'd like to, that is," Hux adds because he fears he might have overstepped again, but then Ben's arms are around him, squeezing him in a slow, tight embrace. Hux has received many hugs from Ben, but this one is new; so undemanding, so plain and boring, and yet, or perhaps because of that, so sweet and much desired.

So selfless.

"Are you sure?"

"I am."

"I'd love to," Ben finally says. Hux can make out the tip of his nose poking at his ear and when Ben speaks it's so close the vibrations feel like they're being sent directly to Hux's brain for decoding. "You know, you remember that time I slept over? When we went for breakfast and it started to rain, and then you called out to me to get drenched along with you?"

"What about it?"

Ben pulls away, just enough so they can face each other. "It's a bit silly."

"I can handle it."

He brushes his lips against Hux's cheek. "I think I fell in love with you, then."

Hux laughs. "Sap."

"I hate you," Ben retaliates.

He kisses Hux nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mention of suicide by overdose; referenced abuse
> 
> And THIS IS IT. I'm emotional tbh. When I wrote the first scene with the vore fantasy I had no idea it would grow into a 28k monstrosity with a plot. Cool. I'm a bit sad/reluctant to leave this AU behind, but everything has to end somehow. Though if inspiration strikes I might write something more for this (emphasis on might as I suck at keeping these sort of promises xD).
> 
> Thank you for reading this far, I hope you liked it! You can check out the art for this fic here: [1,](http://mini-mantis.tumblr.com/post/158203816891/hux-from-the-fic-because-i-knew-that-you-would-be) [2,](http://mini-mantis.tumblr.com/post/159233539101/ben-is-like-a-summer-night-hot-and-damp-and) [3](http://mini-mantis.tumblr.com/post/160230522826/from-this-verse-as-a-little-thank-you-to-everyone)
> 
> feel free to drop me a message on [tumblr](http://mini-mantis.tumblr.com/)!

**Author's Note:**

> vore (fantasy scenario) as an under-negotiated kink; Ben pulls out a knife during the sex to liven up the fantasy; vivid description of preparing Hux for consumption (Ben fantasizing about killing and disemboweling him); Hux getting off on all of the above
> 
> feel free to scream at me on [tumblr!](http://mini-mantis.tumblr.com/)


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